The Cycle Continues Part Three: Full Circle
by autumn6435
Summary: Eragon and Arya come full circle as they visit Carvahall and Ellesméra, and especially with the birth of their baby. But the blessed event is preceded and followed by unexpected conflict and heartache. King Kulkarvek grows restless with the nearness of the Dragon Riders in Carvahall, and the expectant parents face the greatest trial of their love and faith when their child is born.
1. First Intrusion

**A/N:** If you're reading this and have not yet read Parts One and Two of _The Cycle Continues_ , it won't make any sense. Go find _Part One: Reunited_ and _Part Two: Beauty and the Beast_ and read them first. Part Three picks up without intro or summary. For readers interested only in Eragon/Arya, here are the chapters where I focus mainly on them or where they appear for a good amount of time:

1\. First Intrusion  
3-4 detail their further travel plans, but most of my OCs take part in them.  
5\. Meeting Baby Varhog  
8\. Carvahall  
9\. Attack  
12\. First Feel  
17\. Urgralish  
19\. Winter Traditions  
20\. Uneasy  
21\. Enemy  
22\. Whispers of the Past  
23\. Ellesméra  
24\. Rhunön-elda  
25\. The Menoa Tree  
26\. Scandalized  
32\. Back in Ellesméra  
34\. Ellei-an's Meadow  
35\. After the Birth  
36\. The Afterbirth  
37\. Grooming  
38\. Mystery Solved  
39\. Gratitude  
40\. New Family

Part Three once contained six chapters with links to livejournal and Mature Adult (MA) scenes, but I have removed all of them. I completely deleted two of those chapters from this story, and they can be found on my livejournal page (there are alerts in the story where this happens), though, again, they no longer contain MA detail. In the rest of the applicable chapters that still contain Mature love scenes or discussion of intimate love, I have significantly toned down my portrayal. Keeping in mind the varied opinions of what is and isn't appropriate with regard to such matters, I have now also included a brief warning at the end of each preceding chapter so objecting readers can know to skip them if they want.

Thanks for continuing on with me! ~Autumn :)

* * *

1\. First Intrusion

Eragon and Arya had remained on the sofa for the night after their second experiment left them relaxed and sleepy. The first had been on the table not long after Willow left, some of her tangible passion igniting their own.

They had pulled the throw from the back of the sofa over them to stay warm, only needing to add a little assistance to their own body heat and the fire in the hearth. The storm outside had continued through the night in steady though mild determination, and the world that morning was blanketed in several more inches of peaceful white. It was a day for staying in and staying warm, and they were snuggling, teasing, laughing, and looking forward to their first undisturbed day in one another's arms when a sharp rap at the door surprised them both.

They looked at each other, unsure whether they should try to quickly dress or remain as they were. In the Urgal village, they had learned a knock at the door was often only a perfunctory alert that someone was about to enter whether one rose to answer it or not. When no one immediately followed the rap, Eragon called, "Who is it?"

"Your brother," came Murtagh's dry reply. "It's quite cold out here. May we come in?"

Arya giggled as Eragon said, "You've caught us at a rather awkward moment, dear brother. If you come in now, you might wish you hadn't."

That was all it took. Murtagh opened the door and guided Nasuada through it, closing it behind him. His face was eager, as if he knew this would be the perfect opportunity for teasing.

Arya was on top of Eragon, facing the newcomers with her arm curled under her head on his chest. The blanket was still over them, but it was clear what they had been up to and that they were naked. Their clothes were all about them on the floor.

"I should have known that would bring you in directly," Eragon sighed. "Couldn't resist the opportunity to observe my expertise, now could you?" Arya giggled again.

Nasuada also laughed, along with Murtagh, who didn't look ashamed in the slightest. Nasuada said, "It seems we're in one of the few places in the world where not only is such behavior completely normal and accepted, but expected. Indeed, if we had been Urgals and stumbled in to find you doing anything _other_ than what you clearly have been, we might have been shocked and wondered whether you had not gone mad."

The laughter increased at her accurate assessment, and Murtagh helpfully contributed, "We've frequently discussed what a unique experience it has been to honeymoon in an Urgal village. From what Grintuk said, I'd guess the few other places that fit my wife's flawless description would be other Urgal villages. What a treasure this place is."

"I couldn't agree more," Arya said, apparently completely unconcerned the two had entered. Though she and Eragon had not at that very moment been making love, they were getting ready to, and they had several times before.

"No blush?" Eragon said in pretended alarm. "This place is having a bad effect on you, my love."

Arya rolled her eyes in amusement. "I'm sure if you two carry on, I'll be crimson in a matter of minutes. Go ahead. I'm ready." She kissed his cheek.

Eragon accepted her invitation with a grin. "So _would_ you care for a demonstration, brother? My wife is amazing at this. She puts Saphira to shame."

Murtagh chuckled as Arya blushed deeply, just as she had predicted. Eragon kissed _her_ cheek. "Did I go too far, love?" he asked. She smiled at him tolerantly, shaking her head and kissing his lips before laying her head back on her arm and running her fingers through his chest hair with her free hand.

"Hmm. Tempting," Murtagh said, pausing as if truly considering it then resuming, "But I'd better not. Wouldn't want Nasuada to be disappointed in the husband she ended up with." Nasuada scoffed and elbowed him. Murtagh dodged her with a roguish grin, wrapping his arms around her from behind. As he stroked over her abdomen, he excitedly said, "Did you hear our news? I suspect the women guessed as much at the birth, but Nasuada is expecting! So we'll all be parents together!"

Eragon hadn't heard nor guessed so he said, "That's excellent, brother! Congratulations! And you too, Nasuada." He grinned broadly at them, tucking one of his arms behind his head so he could look up at them more easily.

"Thank you!" Nasuada accepted in delight. "We're thrilled. But I promise that's not the only reason we disturbed you at this early hour. I feel I have been absent from Ilirea long enough, but Murtagh and I have discussed accompanying you to Carvahall for a brief visit before returning. Since the Urgal conflicts are one of my primary concerns, perhaps I can do some good at the location of the most frequent incursions. Though I trust the advisors I left in charge in my stead, after that I feel we'll need to return to Ilirea, and I don't want to delay unnecessarily. I had hoped to be able to meet Myrin's baby before we departed, but with the storm acting like it has no intention of letting up, we thought it wise to leave as soon as possible. Flying in it will be bad enough as it is."

"Not as bad as you think, with me to help you stay warm," Murtagh reminded her in her ear. "And the other way around. Flying on Thorn has never been as enjoyable in all the years I've been his Rider as these past weeks." Nasuada smiled and turned her face to his, kissing him once, which he longingly returned. Then Murtagh added, "We came to discuss plans for leaving. Do you think it will be soon?"

Eragon said, "I'm not exactly sure. We also hoped for the opportunity to meet the new baby. I'm glad you will get to meet our cousin, Murtagh. He's as good a man as you'll ever know. Nasuada is familiar with some of his more commendable strengths." Nasuada inclined her head in agreement.

Murtagh abandoned his usual sardonic humor to say, "If he's anything like you, Eragon, then I believe you. I'll be honored to meet him."

"And now you mention it," Eragon said, "it might not be a bad idea to travel there as soon as we can. The weather will only get worse the farther north we go. Katrina's baby is due any time now, and Arya wished to be present to help if they allow her to. I never told him of our intended visit, and I'm looking forward to surprising him with our arrival. He thought he would never see me again, and I thought the same."

"Have you heard from Hanin at all?" Murtagh wondered.

"Yes," Eragon replied. "The afternoon of the birth two days ago. We had just awakened from a nap, and we told him to scry us again in a couple more days, since we knew Willow and Varhog were in the middle of overcoming the strange reaction she had. And now that we've discussed the dilemma presented by Kulkarvek with Nar Garzhvog, we can once again scry the others on the Isle after we have decided on our plans. Willow and Varhog might like to be involved, though they also might not appreciate being disturbed after the unwelcome interruption of their honeymoon last week." He smiled as Arya laughed.

Arya said, "You should have seen Willow when she came yesterday to check that the treatment had taken effectively. I've never seen anyone look like that before, though Eragon assures me I have plenty of times."

"How did she look?" Nasuada wondered.

"Ready to snap, she was so tense. From bridled passion," Arya said. "Varhog was pacing like a caged beast. They had been fighting to pass the time, and I can only guess how she used that opportunity to provoke him in ways only she could." Arya shivered a little at the memory.

"I'll scry them," Murtagh offered with a mischievous grin. "Then if I got a brief peek into their creativity, I could pretend it was an honest mistake. They wouldn't expect me to know everything you just shared. Little Willow, a seductive temptress. Strange to think, isn't it, brother? She was always so sweet and gentle and warm. Just a sister."

"Aye," Eragon agreed fervently. "I was stunned at the way her eyes looked when she flashed them at me for a split-second after I greeted her. She was painfully aware and apologized that I got even the briefest glimpse of what was meant all for Varhog. I imagine he has enjoyed his honeymoon almost as much as I did mine with a wife who looks at him like that." He stroked Arya's hair.

"Not much has changed since then," Arya murmured, turning her face to kiss his chest.

Eragon nodded. "No, lucky for me, not much has. Murtagh, I pray for your sake that Nasuada's pregnancy affects her like Arya's has. It has been unbelievable, brother. My wildest fantasies never could have prepared me for the wonderful reality of being with the woman I love. If I had known her pure elf blood runs as hot as an Urgal's, I might have done a better job anticipating this dream come true."

With affected solemnity Murtagh shared, "I think I'm well on my way to the same enjoyment, brother. Nasuada wasn't the leader of the strongest military force in the land for nothing. She's feisty and fearless." Nasuada smiled in the same tolerant way Arya had at her husband's carrying on. Murtagh continued by returning to their previous topic, "We don't need to leave immediately, Eragon. Let's discover how the other Riders fare. I suppose you two would like to get dressed?"

"I expect the sight of me naked wouldn't be a real shock to anyone here," Eragon remarked, smiling. "You and I look enough alike. But when it comes to my wife, I must insist. I fear her true perfection is something I'm fiercely possessive of."

"I completely understand," Murtagh said. "Your clothes are here. Shall we wait in the bedroom?"

"That works," Eragon agreed. "We'll only be a moment."

Murtagh led Nasuada by the hand down the hall and entered the bedroom, closing the door, though it wasn't necessary. The two on the sofa were blocked from their view as soon as they were in the hallway. He held Nasuada and swayed gently with her, humming into her hair, which he stroked as always, never able to get enough of the silky, rumpled texture; the amazing rich color; the sweet, feminine smell; or the unbelievable length and volume of it. "I _love_ your hair," he told her as he had on so many occasions.

Nasuada laughed softly in reply. "I'm glad, my dear," she said. "I love your humming."

In response, Murtagh took it up with greater gusto, singing a few lines of the song for her. He took one of her hands in one of his and wrapped his other arm around her waist as he also embellished his playful swaying into a dance.

He had just spun her once under his arm when Eragon called, "We're done."

Murtagh sighed in disappointment, feigning it was greater than he truly felt. "We'll have to carry on when next we have opportunity, Your Majesty. You're an amazing dancer."

"The lady is only as skilled as her partner," Nasuada demurred graciously. Murtagh smiled, leaning down to softly kiss her before leading her to rejoin the others.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains brief mention of a Mature love scene.


	2. Second Intrusion

2\. Second Intrusion

Willow and Varhog awoke to Black Thunder's deep mental tones apologetically informing them, _My son, Murtagh has been insistently calling you from the scrying mirror in my saddlebags. I cannot communicate with him but I hear him, so I finally decided to notify you._

Varhog muttered irritably, so Willow simply performed the spell that would transfer Murtagh's spell to the surface of the hot spring in front of them without moving from her warm location snuggled next to Varhog's side. She then heard Murtagh's voice. "Willow! Varhog!" he called in a teasing, clear tone. "Wake up you two love birds! Honeymoon's over! Time to get back to business."

Willow stirred under the blanket, smiling slightly. She looked toward the water with bleary eyes then glanced up at Varhog's face. She could tell he was awake, but he pretended he wasn't. She couldn't see Murtagh well in her position, so she reluctantly sat up, keeping the blanket around her. Varhog immediately copied her, surrounding her with his warm body. "I knew you were awake," Willow murmured.

"I wish I hadn't been awakened like this," Varhog returned, leaning his face against the back of her head.

"There we go," Murtagh encouraged. "I'm glad I found you sleeping and not otherwise engaged." He chuckled. "Though the alternative might have been interesting, to say the least."

Willow giggled. "To say the least," she agreed. "You'd probably also like to witness Varhog's amazing lovemaking abilities, just like Eragon. Where are you?"

"I'm in Eragon's hut," he said.

"And why are you scrying us at this lovely hour?" Willow wondered somewhat peevishly. "We'd prefer to be alone."

"Come now, sister," Murtagh chided playfully. "Don't you remember that I cut _my_ honeymoon short so you and your dear ram wouldn't be delayed in enjoying the arrival of _yours_? I understand it has been most intense. Where are _you_ , by the way?"

"At a hot spring in the mountains," she replied. "It's been nice respite when the snow gets too cold." She smiled as she looked at Murtagh.

"Do you really think it wise to disturb an Urgal ram on his honeymoon, Murtagh?" Varhog asked with mock threatening. "You know what I'm capable of."

Murtagh laughed good-naturedly. "Yes, I'm aware. It's a risk I was willing to take. Should I feel us in danger, I think Thorn would be able to get us far enough away before you could catch us, no matter how huge that black beast of yours is. In any case, we thought you might appreciate knowing that Hanin means to scry us later this morning, and we're also planning on contacting the other Riders back on the Isle. A lot of interest has happened while you've been on your honeymoon aside from what you had to endure. We're also going to discuss plans for visiting Carvahall and thought you'd want to be involved. Forgive us if we were mistaken. If you wish to be present, by all means come. If not, we understand. Stay in the snow next to your hot spring. But we'll have breakfast ready here."

Murtagh turned for a moment as someone—it sounded like Eragon—addressed him from one side. Then he looked back at Willow. "Eragon says he'd like to know how to get there. Apparently you stole his and Arya's idea. She wanted to be the next one to come up with a new and novel way of, ahem, doing what you've been doing." He acted like the discussion required some delicacy, though Willow could tell he was enjoying himself immensely and knew he truly didn't mind in the least.

Willow laughed. "Tell her we didn't mean to. It was rather spur of the moment. It seemed fitting to return here since it was here that my first allergic reaction occurred. Very well. For all that we'll return. Thanks to the aforementioned abilities of my dear ram, we had a long, incredibly enjoyable night. Has Myrin indicated that she's ready for visitors yet? Doesn't Nasuada want to hold the new baby at least once?"

"That she would," Murtagh agreed. "Perhaps you can stop by on your way here and check with Myrin. It may be that we decide not to leave for a few more days. Our main motivation was the storm and that it appears to be getting more serious."

Willow sighed theatrically. "Give us some time to get back and washed up. We've been doing a fair amount of rolling around in the dirt." She grinned impishly and winked, completely unfazed by her innuendo.

Murtagh laughed loudly. "I was surprised to hear what a brazen temptress you've turned out to be, sister, but I'm glad for Varhog's sake. He has loved you a long time, so it seems fitting he would end up with a passionate mate, Urgal ram that he is. We've enjoyed having our honeymoon in his village. Nasuada and I have an entirely new perspective of what marital love should be like."

Willow and Varhog also laughed, but then she demanded, "Now go away so we can get up and get dressed. Unless you wish to see your brazen younger sister in the nude." She made as if to stand, but Varhog held her down.

"Not a chance, Eartheyes," Varhog muttered. "That pleasure is for my eyes only."

But Murtagh heard. "That makes two this morning," he commented dryly. "My half-brother by birth and my brother by calling. Oh yes," he said at their confusion, "it has been our pleasure to intrude on two naked couples this morning. Makes me wish we had just stayed in bed so we could have been numbered among you. I understand, Varhog. I too would never allow another male the singular privilege of seeing Nasuada in her truest glory. Take your time then but not too much of it. The high queen awaits." And with that, Murtagh ended the spell.

Willow stretched, turning to look at Varhog with obvious disappointment. "Good thing we're creative," she said. "Now that we can do that without fear of negative repercussions, I hoped to have more time. We'll just have to make the most of our travels, if we continue them soon."

Varhog hopefully suggested, "We can be quick, if you want. Once more in the water before we leave?"

"How can I resist?" Willow laughed. "And we'll have the whole flight back to the hut and then while we wash up. With an Urgal ram as part of the equation, we need never fear an unnecessary delay." She hopped up and ran lightly along the rocks and boulders to her right before diving gracefully into the deepest part of the pool.

Varhog did the same in the other direction, waiting until Willow surfaced before jumping as high as he could and curling his huge body up into a ball, landing with an impressive splash that sent a huge wave of water right into her face.

Willow pounced on him as he came up, but it did nothing. Varhog simply trapped her in his arms and started kissing her fiercely. He pulled back enough to say with feigned sternness, "We need to be quick, remember? No time for fun."

"Oh right!" Willow agreed, playing along. "Well, I'm your willing captive." She wrapped herself around him in every way she could as they tangled together.

-:-:-

Back at the hut after an eventful flight, they forced themselves into the washbasin together, though it barely fit Varhog by himself. Willow scrubbed him up quickly with firm massaging motions, which he savored with a contented rumbling in his chest. "That reminds me of those wolves," she teased, and Varhog snapped at her in an alarmingly accurate imitation. Willow flinched back with a giggle.

"You're not the first to call me an animal," Varhog said. "To prove you're right . . ." He trailed off as he began washing her in return but with far more tickling than the job required.

Willow squirmed and laughed. "Varhog! Enough! Or I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"You'll what?" Varhog challenged. "You're at my mercy in close quarters, in case you've forgotten. It feels good to have some power after how helpless I felt yesterday."

"Mmm," Willow murmured mischievously. "Thanks for reminding me." She leaned forward and began kissing him desperately, infusing it with all the passion and longing she could. But no matter how they wriggled, they couldn't figure out a way to fit together in the washbasin. After several humorous minutes, they gave up. "We'll worry about that later," she promised. "Now won't you wash my hair?"

"With pleasure," Varhog replied and did so very carefully. They got out and quickly toweled off. Willow dried her hair with magic, and Varhog gently brushed it. Willow again watched his face in the mirror, noticing that he intentionally touched her back with his fingers, which made her shiver. She was happy to see that he looked happy.

When Varhog was done, Willow tried something she never had before. She grabbed a section of her hair, murmuring the last part of the spell Arya helped her come up with to curl Varhog's bristles under, which did the same to her hair. She repeated the spell with the rest of her hair until it fell in long, soft waves down her back.

"That looks pretty," Varhog said admiringly, running his fingers through the silky waves.

Willow beamed at him. "I _love_ magic sometimes."

"Has your spell for my bristles continued satisfactorily?" Varhog wondered as he rubbed his hands down then up his chest, causing his pectoral and arm muscles to flex impressively.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" Willow complained.

"What?" Varhog asked in confusion.

"Making your huge muscles ripple in such a tempting way?"

Varhog looked down at himself in surprise. "I can't help it, Eartheyes. They're just a part of me. When I move, they flex. It's hard for me to remember how appealing they are to you."

"Well, just so you never wonder, I think your body and your muscles are _amazing,_ and I _love_ touching them." Willow ran her hands down his arms, letting them curve over each huge bulge and kissing his chest. "And the spell is working perfectly. I can still do this," she rubbed herself against him, "with no discomfort." She grinned as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Why, do you want me to change them back?"

"No," Varhog replied quickly. "Whatever it takes for you to keep doing that."

Willow laughed lightly. "It doesn't take much, does it? I can't seem to keep my hands off of you."

"I have no problem with that," Varhog reassured. "But we _are_ supposed to be hurrying, aren't we?"

"Don't remind me," Willow griped. "Very well. Now that I look more presentable, I'll put some clothes on."

"But don't get too comfortable," Varhog playfully warned. Willow smiled breezily as she flitted gracefully to the bedroom. She didn't have much to choose from. All of her pants, coats, and undergarments were much the same.

"I never cared about seeming feminine before," Willow mourned. "Now that I do, I have nothing to wear that will help me to that end. I'll just have to be content with wearing something clean and warm at this point." After putting on some undergarments and an undershirt, she grabbed a warm long-sleeve shirt and the warmest coat and leggings she had. She followed them with thick socks and boots that reached her knees. Then she stood, pulling her hair free of the coat and looking at him expectantly. "Well?" she asked. "It's not often the female is ready before the male."

"No, it's not," Varhog agreed. "I had to watch that and memorize everything you just covered so I can fantasize about it for the next many hours."

"As if you don't have it memorized already, with how extensively you've groped every square inch of it," Willow observed wryly.

"True. But one can never be too careful," he returned with a grin, likewise dressing himself. They grabbed their cloaks as they headed out of the room.

"At least this will cover my hair and keep it looking nice," Willow commented. As they prepared to leave the hut, Willow glanced into the kitchen and noticed the loaves of bread they had prepared and left on the counter to rise. "We never baked the bread!" she exclaimed in amusement, walking over to check it. "I'm not sure there's much we can do to salvage this. We could bake it and have very hard sourdough bread, I suppose. Maybe that would go with some more soup. Well, it's remained sitting long enough. A few more hours won't hurt it." She grabbed some ready-to-eat food from the pile on the counter and returned to Varhog. "I'm counting on what Murtagh said about having breakfast ready there," she said, handing him some.

They donned their cloaks and headed outside, carefully closing the door behind them. They walked swiftly toward the village and arrived in about ten minutes, stopping first at Myrin's, where Varhog knocked softly. When no one answered, he opened the door and peered inside. The front room was empty, but muffled sounds carried down the hall from the bedroom. "I think they—Myrin and Tarhvek—are busy. No one's in the front room. The children must still be with their cousins. It seems to be a morning for interrupting couples making love, or at least wishing they were." He grinned. "We'll try back later. They can't keep at it all day. The baby will need to eat at some point. I suppose Tarhvek's enjoying _that_ a great deal."

"Do you mean Myrin's milk?" Willow asked.

"Aye," Varhog chuckled. "I suppose she told you I nursed until I was six?" Willow nodded. "Well, it's how I got so strong, and I can still remember how it tastes. I'm excited for you to have our babies so I can taste it again, if I ever get a turn after that. I suppose with two, your breasts will be in high demand."

Willow laughed as they continued on their way, but before long, Myrintuk caught up to them. "Varhog!" she cried. Varhog turned toward his mother. "Son, are you well? I haven't seen you since Myrin's birth but then so briefly and we didn't get to speak. I was so worried about you and Willow that night you kicked down my door. Is everything better now?"

Varhog gave his mother an embrace. "Yes, mother, I'm well. So is Willow and so are the babies. I'm sorry to act as I did. I was beside myself with terror at what was happening with Willow. Thankfully, Arya knew precisely what she needed. We have been reunited, and all is as it should be."

Myrintuk sighed in relief. "I'm so glad to hear that! What an awful thing to happen on your first night together! Everything with _that_ is also as it should be?"

Willow replied, "Yes, mother. It's perfect! Wonderful! I think I'm part Urgralgra for how wild I am. Varhog quite enjoys it though, don't you, Yelloweyes?"

"Most assuredly," Varhog agreed. "Myrin seems to have wasted no time. Will she be ready for visitors soon? We're going right now to discuss with the other Riders our travel plans from here, and all of the women want to see the baby, if possible."

"Myrin meant to welcome visitors this afternoon," Myrintuk said. "She and Tarhvek are deeply in love. It's gratifying to see them enjoy each other so much. And the rest of you. It reminds me of me and your sire." Her eyes looked sad and nostalgic. "It's so lonely without him, and that's only one of the reasons. Garzhvog and I have sometimes wondered if joining might not make the loneliness more bearable, since we both lost our mates to Galbatorix's treachery. But for so long he seemed like a brother. To have him as a mate just seems . . . strange. Perhaps in time."

Varhog regarded his mother tenderly, his eyes full of compassion. "You should, mother, if it would bring you happiness. No one deserves it more than you. Garzhvog looks like father, doesn't he?"

"Very much," Myrintuk confirmed. "And he's only a few years younger. About my own age actually. Just as tall. Just as strong . . ." She trailed off. "Perhaps it's best if I don't dwell on such things." She smiled wistfully. "We older Urgralgra still feel all the longing and passion you younger ones do. It seems only to deepen with time."

Varhog looked adoringly at Willow. "I have no difficulty imagining that," he said.

"Protect her, my son," Myrintuk entreated. "If you lose her, your heart will break and you'll never be whole again."

"Yes, mother. I know. I promise I will."

Myrintuk hugged him again. "I'll come find you when Myrin is ready. Will you be at Firesword's?"

"Aye," Varhog said, and they started walking again after Myrintuk turned to go.


	3. Scrying the Riders

3\. Scrying the Riders

The other two couples were eating breakfast when Willow and Varhog arrived. Once the two had entered, Eragon invited, "Please join us if you're hungry. Arya and I prepared it with the appetites of five Riders in mind, two of whom are expecting. And you of course, Your Majesty, though your ladylike manners have never betrayed ravenous hunger the likes of which I often feel." Nasuada smiled.

Willow let her hood down, and Arya exclaimed, "Your cloak matches Sunset! What an exquisite color on you, Willow. You look so vibrant and healthy."

"Thank you," Willow said as she removed the cloak.

Once her hair was uncovered, Arya uttered more words of praise. "And your hair! I've never seen it curled under gently and so shining like that."

"Well, it's the first time I've ever tried it. I thought it turned out rather nicely. I borrowed part of the spell you came up with for Varhog's bristles, and he helped me wash and brush it."

The mention of Varhog's bristles was met with interest by the other three, who knew nothing of what Willow was speaking. "That sounds interesting," Murtagh commented. "Pray, do tell. What do you mean?"

The newcomers were serving themselves generous portions of the hot breakfast cereal and cooked eggs. There were nuts, dried fruit, cream, honey, and cinnamon as toppings for the cereal. Willow explained, "Varhog's 'hide' is covered in stiff bristles that we knew would cause problems for me once we were married, so I asked Arya to help me think of a spell to modify them. It involved flattening them, softening the edges, and curling them under slightly. It worked perfectly, and I used the last part to shape my hair." She started eating, hoping it would be a clue to the others that she didn't wish to converse at the moment.

It worked well enough. At one point Murtagh asked Varhog if they had learned anything about Myrin's intentions, and when Varhog relayed his mother's message, Nasuada looked excited at the prospect of meeting the baby.

-:-:-

When everyone had eaten their fill, Eragon assumed command, used to it from the Isle, though Nasuada was present. Their gathering was with the Riders' purposes in mind, so he felt it natural for him to take charge.

"Hanin will most likely scry anytime now," Eragon began. "After we speak with him, I think we should scry Grintuk, Knilf, and the others on the Isle. And then I'd like to scry Roran. Any objections?" No one had any. "Very well," he said with business-like efficiency. "While we wait to hear from Hanin perhaps we should inform Willow and Varhog of what we have learned about Kulkarvek."

Eragon did most of the speaking, but the other three also contributed, and they shared with Willow and Varhog all they had learned from Grintuk about Galbatorix's first dragon as well as their discussion with Nar Garzhvog and Myrintuk. Varhog grew more and more troubled with every new detail. When the explanation was finished, he said, "So Kulkarvek has the greatest animosity toward human Dragon Riders?"

Eragon nodded. "It's not hard for me to imagine that he's particularly angry with me for including the Urgralgra in the pact with the dragons and attempting to change the ways of your people by establishing the Games."

"But Willow is also in greater danger than the rest of us," Varhog observed. "Not only as a human Dragon Rider but also as my mate. You all remember how Garzhvog acted when I told him my intentions. I'm sure this Kulkarvek would be even more vehemently opposed than my uncle. Until we know more about him and what we're dealing with, I think it best if our relationship remains as secret as possible. At least if there's any possibility the people we interact with might somehow relay the information back to Kulkarvek. He might have spies like Galbatorix did, but even if he doesn't, he can most likely scry using magic."

The others nodded their agreement, and the discussion effectively ended when Hanin scryed the enchanted mirror Eragon held in anticipation of his appointment. Eragon quickly transferred the spell to a larger mirror they had propped up on the kitchen table to make their scrying sessions easier. Everyone could see Hanin, and he could see them. His eyes immediately fell on Willow. "Hello, sister!" he said enthusiastically. "I'm glad you could be here this time. When I scryed two days ago, Arya told me a little of the unusual circumstances you have been dealing with. I'm so sorry! It sounded awful. But she said you have some exciting news, and I'm most anxious to hear it! Won't you share?"

"I suppose she must be referring to the fact I'm pregnant with twins," Willow said casually. Then she gave Hanin a huge smile.

"Twins!" he exclaimed with a smile of equal delight. "How fantastic! _Two_ babies at once! You'll be the envy of every elf you meet when you all arrive here in Ellesméra. Especially since you'll most likely be obviously pregnant at that point. When do you think you'll come?"

"I'm not sure," Willow said. "That's part of the reason we've met this morning."

"I see," Hanin said. "Congratulations, sister. And you too, Varhog. I'm thrilled for you. I haven't told Maehrí about you two yet, and she hasn't pieced together the information from when you first met a couple of weeks ago about you being on your honeymoon in Varhog's village. I'm sure she has no idea you meant on your honeymoon _with_ Varhog. She'll be surprised when you come, and I'm looking forward to seeing her reaction."

Willow laughed, and Varhog also chuckled. Willow asked, "Isn't she there with you?"

"No," Hanin replied. "Vera took her and Silvan out this morning to teach them more about flying. Silvan is what her dragon chose as his name. He's not big enough to fly with her yet, which is why she went with Vera. I wanted to be alone for this. But I meant to tell you that my mother is grateful to you, Willow. Thanks to you she's finally receiving the proper affection from her only son for the first time in eighty years."

Willow giggled. "Well done, Hanin!" she approved. "I'm glad you remembered my request. Your mother did such a good job raising you, she deserves some gratitude and affection in return."

"I couldn't agree more," Hanin said.

Eragon then entered the conversation. "How are things going for you in Ellesméra, Hanin?"

"Well," Hanin replied. "I delivered the brightsteel to Rhunön almost as soon as I arrived. She was grateful to have such a large supply. After the dragon egg hatched, she summoned me and informed me that she's willing to forge new weapons for the Dragon Riders in the same manner she did for you with Brisingr. I assured her that isn't necessary since we have so many swords on the Isle to choose from, but she seemed anxious to do it. She was none too happy that my sword didn't match Vera's lovely color. I told her we have some purple blades on the Isle but they didn't fit me, and I suggested she could simply modify one of them for me, but she insisted on making a new one. There's no question she delights in forging blades for the Riders. She couldn't pass up the opportunity to make one that matched Silvan, though I brought a silver blade along with me that nearly matched the egg. I've told her we expect a visit from you at some point. I think she's anxious to meet more Dragon Riders and their dragons. She'll probably be mesmerized by Sunset's color, Willow."

"Undoubtedly," Willow agreed. "But I don't need a new sword. It's true I've always fancied having one the same color as Sunset, but I'm going to be a mother. I can't think of any use for a sword beyond practicing and training on the Isle. Varhog might like having one big enough for him but again, I can't foresee many instances where he would need it."

"True," Hanin agreed. "Rhunön attached some conditions to the forging of the blades. Maehrí and I each had to swear an oath in the ancient language that we would never use our swords for evil purposes but only for the intent of training, self-defense, or the defense of others in a just cause. She then solemnized the oath using our blood during the forging process, sealing the promise to the weapon. If we hadn't sworn the oath, she wouldn't have forged the swords, but I had no problem promising those things. It renders the blade incapable of being used to pursue evil or senseless murder."

"I can see how that would be helpful," Eragon said. "Well, that's unexpected. I suppose we'll leave it up to Rhunön whether or not she wants to forge swords for Willow and Varhog when we arrive. And the training with the new Rider also goes well?"

Hanin's eyes flitted to Willow's before he replied, and she smiled knowingly. "Yes," Hanin said. "The training is underway. Maehrí is the most natural Rider I have ever seen. It seems she was born for this. She has been so anxious for Silvan to grow big enough to fly with her. But she's also dutifully enjoying every moment with him, as you instructed, Arya."

"That's good," Arya said with a smile.

"So when do you think your travels will bring you here?" Hanin asked before either Willow or Arya could pester him with questions about their suspicions in Ilirea.

"We plan to visit Carvahall next," Eragon replied. "We're heading into winter here. Is it affecting you much there in Ellesméra?"

"Not as severely, I suspect," Hanin said. "Thanks to the elves' magic. But it has cooled down quite a bit and we've seen flurries of snowflakes. I suppose you'll want to wait out the winter and avoid flying in the snow."

"Most likely," Eragon agreed. "I'd like to spend some time with Roran, and winter is the best time for a visit anyway. He'll have more time without the demands of caring for his land. I expect we will travel there as soon as the winter storms clear enough to make flying plausible. Arya will be much further along in her pregnancy, and we'll want to arrive with plenty of time to spare before the baby is due."

"We'll wait until you come then," Hanin said. "We should arrange a way for you to inform us when you begin your journey here. Any ideas? Or shall I simply scry you again at a pre-appointed time?"

"Is there a way to enchant one of the scrying mirrors so we could reach you?" Eragon asked. "I remember that many elves who couldn't be present for the Blood-oath Celebration did this, but that might have only worked because they were elsewhere within Du Weldenvarden and not outside its borders. I'm reluctant to use the name of the ancient language to bypass the wards, and I suspect there are so many that it wouldn't be worth the trouble anyway."

"Most likely," Hanin agreed. "The elves have been protecting the forest for centuries. Perhaps the easiest thing to do is repeat this pattern and set a time for me to scry you. I don't mind at all. I could also communicate with your mind, but that's more invasive."

"Shall we say late winter?" Eragon suggested. "As soon as the snow relents enough to make flying realistic?"

"Perfect," Hanin agreed. "I'll contact your mirror again in several months."

"You're certainly always welcome to scry more often if you miss me too much," Willow teased.

Hanin laughed. "I'll keep that in mind, sister. Thank you for the offer. You take care of yourself."

"I will," Willow promised.

"By the way, congratulations, Murtagh," Hanin said. "You've been awfully quiet, but I heard your happy news and am glad for you."

"I appreciate that, Hanin," Murtagh said. "I don't know how you have gone eighty years without finding a mate. These two female Riders seem to think you have a promising prospect in this newest Rider."

Hanin glanced at Willow and Arya with a good-natured smile. "Perceptive, aren't they? We'll see, Murtagh."

"Not to rub it in, but Nasuada is also expecting," Murtagh added.

"Really!" Hanin cried. "You'll never find an elf unhappy to hear news of a new baby, brother. That's wonderful! Congratulations! My three most senior brothers now married with babies on the way. And all of you nearly fifty years younger than I! I really do need to get serious, don't I? Unfortunately however, even if I found a mate tomorrow, the chances that she too would conceive as quickly as the rest of you lovely women are so slim."

"But _I_ did, Hanin," Arya insisted. "Don't you remember our conversation?"

"Of course, Arya," he replied. "I think about it often. If I'm fortunate enough to find myself in the position of taking a mate, I'm sure it will greatly affect my actions. I had best be going. Vera just informed me that she has finished her lesson with Maehrí and Silvan, and they're on their way here. Farewell, my friends!"

All of the Riders said their goodbyes, and Hanin ended his spell.

Willow eagerly said, "I'm so excited to meet this Rhunön! I'm trying not to get my hopes up that she'll also want to forge a sword for me. It seems silly to want a new one when my brown one is such a perfect fit. But if she thought Vera's color was lovely, I can't imagine her not having the same reaction with Sunset as Hanin predicted she might. Though it would be hard to demonstrate my fighting style adequately with a large belly to work around." She giggled, and Varhog smiled at her excitement. They were sitting next to each other on the sofa, and Willow nudged him. "She wouldn't be nearly as impressed by Black Thunder's boring black." Varhog tickled her, and Willow squirmed.

"You don't need a weapon to perform your most impressive feats," Varhog reminded her.

"I know," Willow agreed. "And like I said, I don't _need_ a new sword. I'd never ask it of her. But I've always wanted a sword the color of Sunset's scales, just as I know you've always wanted one the right size for you." Varhog nodded.

Murtagh mused, "I wonder if she would rework Zar'roc for me as she did Támerlein for Arya. It's a good fit for the most part, but I've always wished for a few minor differences. Perhaps we'll also make a visit to Ellesméra at some point." He glanced questioningly at Nasuada.

"I have no objections, dear," Nasuada replied. "I would love to see Ellesméra. If I can be in between Ilirea and these other locations, I'll go with you wherever you want." Murtagh smiled, and the discussion lulled.

-:-:-

During the lull, Eragon performed the scrying spell again, this time with the mirror on the Isle in mind. The mirror was located in the Great Hall, and he hoped that due to the time difference, some of the Riders or elves might be present for lunch to receive their communication.

In fact, all four of the Riders on the Isle were in the Great Hall when Eragon's face appeared in the mirror, and they all exclaimed and ran over to it. "Mine brother!" Knilf boomed. "We haven't heard from you for nigh on two months, and we hoped soon to have some news, especially after we heard Grintuk here scryed you without our knowledge. Are the others with you? Oh there you all are! Hello, my dear," he said to Willow. "And Varhog. You two look thick as thieves. And Murtagh. Your Majesty? You look just as cozy. I sense there is something going on that we don't know about. But no Hanin? Of course not! Because he's in Ellesméra!"

"Aye," Eragon replied. "He is, and we just finished scrying with him. Has he scryed you there to update you?"

"Indeed, mine brother. We heard from him a fortnight ago, after the dragon found his new Rider. Lovely lass, now wasn't she?"

"I haven't yet seen Maehrí," Eragon said. "Just now Hanin said things are going well and that she has taken splendidly to being a Rider. But how fare the Riders on the Isle? I trust you haven't let things get too out of hand?"

Knilf chortled merrily. "Certainly not, brother! We're simply having more fun than we were wont to have with you as our stern overseer. Poor Tomath might not know what to think once you return. He misses Willow dreadfully, however. How are you, my dear?" he wondered, looking back at Willow.

"Marvelous, Knilf!" Willow bubbled enthusiastically. "How are you?"

"Fine, my dear, just fine! Are you keeping that great oaf of an Urgal in line?"

"Oh, after a manner of speaking," Willow said airily. "Here, he wants to tell you something. It only seems appropriate that he should have the honor."

Knilf looked confused, especially when Grintuk leaned down curiously so he could also see. "Very well," Knilf said slowly. "I suppose I'll look upon his hideous face for a moment." Willow giggled as Knilf turned his eyes on Varhog.

"Mountain rat," Varhog teased his old friend from where he was sitting beside Willow.

"Mountain rat, indeed!" Knilf cried jovially. "If I'm a mountain rat, you're a mountain goat, what with your great bumbling size and awkward curling horns! Who needs horns anyway? Though I do have the beard and you the bare skin. That's my one goat-like feature." He chuckled, as did Varhog. "So what news do you have, old friend? Our sister has made me most curious."

"I can call her sister, no longer, Knilf. That is our news. Willow and I are now married, and she is my mate," Varhog said proudly.

"No!" Knilf exclaimed in amazement. "Is it truly so, brother?"

Varhog dipped his head. "It truly is so, and I'm the most astonished and thrilled of any. You know how long I've wanted this and also that I never thought it would be."

"Congratulations!" Knilf boomed. "This is the happiest news I could have expected to hear!" He turned to the others with him. "Did you hear that? Willow and Varhog are married!" There was deep cheering from Grintuk and Bodin and a delighted exclamation from Tomath.

Grintuk smiled broadly. "I knew it!" he declared. "Firesword wouldn't tell me, but I couldn't think of another reason you would all be together in your village. That's excellent, Varhog. How did your clan receive the news?"

"Just as we anticipated," Varhog replied. "My uncle was furious. Willow had to fight me and two others. Nar Garzhvog was her third opponent, and she brought him down effortlessly. She has never stood against you, but I suspect she would be able to with very little trouble. It was unbelievable. Now they're all as loyal to her as I am. Well, almost."

Grintuk wistfully said, "I wish I could have seen that. Well done, Willow."

"Thank you, Grintuk," she said. "I'd do it all over again for Varhog. Being the mate of an Urgal ram is a singular privilege."

Grintuk chuckled. "You're one of a kind, Willow. I'm glad Varhog finally confessed how he feels. It was about to drive the rest of us crazy."

Willow laughed. "Me too! He told me on the first leg of our journey here. It was wonderful! Oh, but please don't mention this to your family when you next speak with them. Varhog's worried about the news reaching Kulkarvek."

"Good point," Grintuk agreed. "I won't. Tomath's about to dive under my legs so he can get up here and see you." He laughed and stepped out of the way.

Tomath leaned eagerly toward the mirror. He had indeed been pushing and pulling on Grintuk with all of his might. The huge Kull had blocked the whole mirror, not budging at all under the young boy's insistent prodding. "Willow!" Tomath cried breathlessly.

"Tomath," Willow said tenderly. She stood up and went to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair to sit in. Then she leaned forward and placed one hand on the mirror where the reflection of Tomath's cheek was. "Hello, darling. I've missed you. Are you well?"

"Well enough," he replied. "I _am_ having fun with these others, but it's not the same without you. I miss you too. But you married Uncle Varhog!" Varhog was so much bigger and older than he that it was always hard for Tomath to see him as a brother. He still considered Varhog family, just someone more deserving of respect, thus the title of uncle.

"Yes, Tomath. And what's more, we're expecting twins! Soon you'll be surrounded by little ones to look after and play with, just as you were at home. Life will be happier indeed!"

Tomath clapped his hands excitedly, smiling brightly at her. "But when will you return?" he asked, his face taking on an anxious look.

Willow sadly told him, "Not for some time yet, darling. It may not be until the spring or summer. I'm sorry we'll be away for so long. You'll be fifteen when we arrive back home. I'm not sure if we'll return before the babies are born or have them here and fly back with them. I want to be with Varhog's family for their birth. You would love it here with the Urgals, Tomath! So many children to play with. How have you been spending your time there?"

Tomath recounted with childlike excitement the many adventures he had been having. He was particularly proud of how Grintuk had been teaching him to fight hand-to-hand as Varhog had taught her. "I can use my small size to my advantage, but I'm still not strong enough to restrict his air flow much. Who knows? By the time I am, I might also be too big to still fit on his back, but it _is_ fun to scramble up there—I have to climb up him, he's so tall—and get a little ride until I choose to jump off." He laughed, and so did Willow. Tomath spent much time flying and with the Eldunarí. The dwarves were teaching him how to throw axes and the elves were helping him with archery and magic. He had scryed his real mother and family, and she was proud of him and anxiously awaited his first allowed visit home.

Tomath prattled on in breathless enthusiasm for some time, and Willow listened rapturously, an adoring look on her face. When he finally ran out of topics to discuss, he fell silent. Willow said, "Thank you for sharing all of that! I'm glad your time is full, Tomath. Keep yourself busy and there will be many more excitements to anticipate as the time for our return draws nearer. Now Eragon has more to share with you, Knilf, and the others."

Tomath regretfully withdrew to allow Knilf back in front of the mirror, though he, Bodin, and the lower half of Grintuk were still visible in the background.

Eragon swiftly filled them in on the news they had received from Hanin and on their further plans for visiting Carvahall and Ellesméra. He ended the session with an invitation for Knilf to scry them anytime if he wished to visit or hear an update of what was transpiring. Willow added the same offer to Tomath, if he found himself missing her too much. Then they said their goodbyes, and Eragon ended the spell.

"I'm so glad we did that," Willow said happily. "Varhog and I were just commenting the other day about how remiss we had been in keeping in touch with them. I'm glad Knilf wasn't upset that we got married without informing him."

"Yes, and now we know how to proceed from here," Eragon said. "I know we've been in the habit of cutting honeymoons short on this trip, but do you and Varhog have a problem with us leaving soon to see Roran and Katrina?"

"No," Willow assured him. "I'd like nothing more than to meet your cousin, Eragon, and to witness another birth. I can see the wisdom in leaving soon. This storm is just as likely to get worse before it gets any better. Do you still mean to scry Roran?"

"Aye," Eragon replied. "He doesn't know about Arya and me or that we're in Alagaёsia. I hope rumors of our dragons being here haven't traveled too far ahead of us. I want it to be a surprise. I hope I can resume my bitter, miserable mask long enough to convince him that nothing has changed. I'll turn the mirror so he sees only me. You others just be quiet, I suppose."


	4. Scrying Roran

4\. Scrying Roran

Eragon turned the mirror on the table to face the kitchen, casting a spell to make the kitchen look like the Great Hall where he usually scryed Roran. He then repeated the scrying spell and contacted the mirror in Roran's study. No one was there, so he called out for a moment then fell silent, giving someone time to respond. A bright-eyed, crimson-haired girl of about eleven came into view. "Hello, Ismira," Eragon said, not unkindly but seriously and without the good-natured cheer his companions had come to expect the previous several months. It was a stark contrast to his happiness with Arya, and they had all but forgotten it, so complete had been his transformation.

"Uncle Eragon?" she wondered. It _had_ been sometime since Eragon last communicated with them, and he had grown a beard since then. His previous habit was to scry Roran every couple of months or so. Before Arya had returned, it had been a couple of months already, and then all of the ensuing events had so occupied him as to cause him to fully forget his duty to his cousin.

"Yes, Ismira. Is your father available to speak?" Eragon asked.

"Not directly, but I'll fetch him. He'll come at once to speak to you. It may be a moment." And she dashed off to accomplish her mission.

It was several moments, but no more than five minutes had passed before Roran's countenance appeared in the mirror. "Eragon! What, you grew a beard? Starting to take after me after all, then brother? Why haven't you contacted me for so long? I was beginning to worry Saphira might have dropped you from the sky for what a miserable companion you are."

It required great effort for Eragon to keep his face straight and glum. "She deserves to, it's true, Roran. And, yes, I grew a beard. I've become lazy in my despondence, though the effort required to remove it is so slight. How goes it for you? Has the baby yet arrived?"

Roran grinned. "Not yet, but Katrina is ready to pop, and the children are excited to meet this new little one. Five, brother! Can you believe it? Would that you could experience the joys of married life. The boys are growing so strong and healthy. They're already able to help in the fields. We had a great harvest this year. Glad we got on it quick too, otherwise this early storm would have ruined some of the crops. It has been all we could do to preserve and prepare it all for the winter before the snow started last week. Ismira's an amazing help for her mother. The castle is full and lively, but there's far more space than we need with all the extra room for a dragon. Come, brother. Are you still set in your resolve never to return? I thought surely in time you would come to regret your stubbornness and once again relent to visit your dear family and the land of your upbringing. The villagers have rebuilt Carvahall to twice its former size and splendor, though splendor might be going a bit far, don't you think?"

Roran finally paused long enough for Eragon to respond, but Eragon was grateful he had carried on so determinedly. There were questions and declarations in Roran's long speech that would have made keeping up his act most difficult. He smiled slightly at Roran's last joke and said, "Yes, I don't know that I'd have ever used the term splendor to describe Carvahall, but I'm sure it is now fitting. I'm happy things go well for you, Roran. I miss you all, but my duties here continue to keep me most occupied. I'm afraid I am still set in my resolve to remain away."

"That's too bad," Roran said. "Is there a Dragon Rider in Alagaёsia right now?"

"Yes," Eragon replied. "Hanin is in Ellesméra. He oversaw the Rider Choosing Ceremony and is now training the new Rider."

"It would be nice to have one up here," Roran said. "We've been having more and more trouble with the Urgals. Nar Garzhvog actually came just last week. The most recent skirmish resulted in some injuries. The northern Urgals seem more determined to fight than ever before. But Hanin is the only one here, is he? We've been hearing rumors that something big recently happened in Ilirea involving several dragons and Dragon Riders."

"Is that right?" Eragon said carefully. "Interesting. The dwarves visited not long ago. Perhaps there was some confusion. I'm sorry to hear about the Urgals. Nar Garzhvog went there? Things must be getting more serious than you let on before."

"Yes. Usually the Urgals who help defend Carvahall are able to turn them back without much difficulty, but it was different this last time."

"Do you have any idea why?" Eragon asked, feigning ignorance.

"There has been some talk of a king. An Urgal king who lives up here in the north somewhere. These attacking rams seem to answer to him."

"Sounds serious," Eragon said. "We'll have to discuss sending someone to assist you, though the Eldunarí once warned Murtagh to avoid the barrows of Anghelm and a certain King Kulkarvek. I wonder if it could be the same king."

"I don't know," Roran said with a heavy sigh. "It's more and more difficult convincing the villagers to allow the Urgals to remain here. They grow less tolerant by the day with all of the attacks we receive."

"I can understand why," Eragon said. "This is troubling but thank you for making me aware."

They visited of this and that for several more minutes, then Eragon wished him luck with the new baby and bid him farewell, promising to contact him sooner the next time. Then he ended the spell and grinned broadly. His face had missed the expression after forcing such seriousness for so long.

Arya rose and went to him. "Did you truly look like that for ten long years, darling? No wonder the Riders grew tired of it!"

"That and worse," Murtagh confirmed wryly. "And fortunate for me, I was the one privileged to witness it the longest, though I can't say I was much better off. Then poor Varhog here came and had to endure our misery with little respite from the capricious nature of the elves. It seems our poor humor inspired melancholy in them more often than merriment. Knilf followed, which made things all the worse for a time. When Willow came, it wasn't long before Varhog joined our ranks as another hopeless, lovesick fool, though she helped ease the other tensions beautifully." He chuckled. "I'm glad those times are behind us."

Eragon laughed at the truthful description. "Was I truly blind to that all those years? How could I have missed it? Arya observed it immediately and once she pointed it out, it was blatantly obvious. All I remember is that they seemed to get along right away, and it was a relief for me. I didn't want to have to dedicate too much time to Willow. The thought of any female was so painful to me, and I felt a nagging dread she might come to have a crush on me, which would have been unbearable. It was yet another relief when she was able to get Varhog and Knilf to overcome their obstinate enmity. Then I could devote myself to my silent moping without any further concerns from the Riders." He ended with a self-mocking snort. The Riders knew it hadn't been as bad as he made it sound. He truly had devoted himself untiringly to his work on the Isle, but he had never been able to find much happiness in it.

Willow smiled. "You needn't have worried about that, brother," she assured him. "I could see you were hopelessly in love with someone. And with an Urgal ram around, you're really not that impressive." She laughed teasingly and leaned into Varhog, who laughed along with Eragon.

Eragon rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I'm anxious now to get to Carvahall! I can't wait to see Roran's face when not one but _five_ dragons land in town, and I dismount to present my lovely wife, who will soon begin showing the growth of our baby. When shall we leave? With an early start and weather-permitting, I think we might make the short trip in a day."

"Then let's leave in the morning," Willow suggested. "I too am excited for this great surprise. And we need never again fear the time on dragon back as an unwelcome interruption of our marital happiness, thanks to Her Majesty's ingenious discovery." They all agreed heartily, having each now enjoyed on numerous occasions just the scenario she described.

"Amen," Murtagh agreed fervently. "And it will be all the more welcome with the weather like it is, so long as we stay bundled up on the outside. I just remembered that Nar Garzhvog wondered if two of his fighting rams could fly with us to Carvahall to replace those injured in the recent fighting. We weren't sure, Varhog, but we thought Black Thunder might be willing."

"He is," Varhog said. "Whom does Garzhvog mean to send?"

"Your brother Raygog and another ram named Pultog," Eragon replied.

"Pultog? I think he's one of Breetuk's friends. Yes, Black Thunder is willing to carry them."

"So is Sunset," Willow said. "She loves Urgal rams. It's not hard to understand why, when I feel the way I do."

"Well, if those two feel awkward riding together, perhaps they could each fly with one of your dragons and you two could ride Saphira," Eragon offered. "She's more than happy to carry you. She knows Varhog well from the many years on the Isle and she loves Willow. It was unfamiliar Urgals she wasn't sure about."

"We'll figure it out," Willow said. "Let's find out how Raygog and Pultog feel."

Just at that moment, there was a knock on the front door and a moment later, Myrintuk opened it and peered in. "Sorry to interrupt," she said. "I've come to inform you that Myrin would love to have you all come to visit her and Varhog." Everyone but Willow and Varhog looked confused. Myrintuk clarified and finished, "Baby Varhog. Now that she has had a few days to recover, she's ready for visitors." She withdrew, and the other four looked at Willow and Varhog.

"She named her baby after you?" Arya asked.

"Aye," Varhog replied. "It's a great honor, one I never expected. To have a namesake is great motivation to live worthy of the natural emulation that follows." Willow smiled proudly at her mate.

"Well shall we, then?" Nasuada urged. "I wish to meet this little fellow!" Murtagh smiled at her affectionately, retrieving her cloak and draping it around her shoulders. The other men did the same for their wives. "Aren't we a lucky threesome?" Nasuada observed of their gentlemanly behavior. "Such chivalry." She smiled back at her husband.

Murtagh rejoined, "I think we men would all express similar sentiments, my dear. To have wives such as you all, who never tire of showing us in word and deed just how manly and desirable you find us, is the greatest gift I can imagine. Such behavior is all it takes to bring out the very best of our rougher natures, making us willing to lay down under your feet and be anything you need us to be. I think my brothers would agree."

Eragon and Varhog nodded fervently, each feeling exactly the same. There wasn't anything any one of them wouldn't have done for their wives.

Willow said, "You should hear about the wolves!"

"Wolves?" Arya repeated worriedly.

"Eartheyes, you don't need to," Varhog pleaded modestly.

"But it was incredible, Yelloweyes! Not just what you did, but the entire situation," Willow insisted and delved into the story.

"That does sound amazing," Eragon agreed after Willow's conclusion. "I'm not sure I could have accomplished the same." He was solemnly thoughtful as he considered it. Murtagh seemed of the same mind as he put his arm protectively around Nasuada.

"But with Brisingr or Zar'roc, you would have had no difficulty," Varhog insisted. "Or with magic, of course."

"But they would have surely been killed in that case. Do you think they'll present any further danger to your village?" Eragon asked in concern.

"No, I don't," Varhog assured them. "They're fiercely protective of Willow now. They meant to kill her and eat her for dinner, which they knew she knew. Then she compassionately saved most of the ones closest to death. I think they were all impressed, to say the least. There's no question they could understand the ancient language, but that they were able to communicate as they did was unbelievable. Their eyes were so intelligent. And it seems they had some sort of mental link with their pack, which isn't hard for us to imagine."

"How were you able to stay safe?" Arya asked Willow. "With nine total, it seems they would have had a chance to separate you from Varhog. Did you use magic?"

"No," Willow replied, explaining how she had stayed right next to Varhog.

Murtagh whistled lowly. "I'll remember never to walk in the woods with Nasuada without Zar'roc at my waist or Thorn close by," he vowed. "I'm impressed, Varhog."

Varhog shrugged uncomfortably. "I wish Willow didn't feel the need to brag about it," he muttered with an exasperated glance at her. She smiled impishly and put her arms around his waist.

"I'm proud of my powerful mate, that's all," Willow told him. "And I suppose I was bragging some too, but only so my insufferable older brothers won't get too arrogant." She grinned at Murtagh and Eragon.

"Eragon's anything but arrogant," Arya insisted loyally, and Eragon smiled at her.

"I fear I can't say the same of my dear husband," Nasuada expressed ruefully with a wink at Murtagh, who kissed the top of her head while tickling her waist. Nasuada jumped and laughed. "Only being honest, dear. Not that I don't like it." Murtagh increased his tickling, and she finally relented. "Fine, Murtagh! Stop it! You aren't arrogant, and I don't think you are. I was only teasing!" He chuckled and wrapped her in both of his arms. "Well, let's go meet the baby!" she reminded him impatiently.

Murtagh swept on his own cloak before taking hold of Nasuada's hand. Then he opened the door and followed her out.


	5. Meeting Baby Varhog

5\. Meeting Baby Varhog

They all walked together towards Myrin's, and when they arrived, Myrin was in the front room on the sofa, cradling the baby in her arms and cooing at him delightedly. Tarhvek was in the kitchen, cleaning up from lunch. "Hello!" Myrin exclaimed happily, looking up as Willow entered first, followed by Varhog, who had opened the door for her. "I'm so glad you could all come! Young Varhog is so happy right now. He just ate after a wonderful nap and is ready for some visitors. Who wants him first?"

All of the women looked equally desirous, but none wanted to leap forward and be the first to stake a claim. Finally both Arya and Willow said together, "Nasuada." They all three laughed as Nasuada eagerly stepped forward and sat by Myrin, accepting the small bundle.

"Hello, baby," Nasuada greeted, and the baby swatted at her clumsily. She laughed at the small creature. The other two women couldn't resist coming forward and kneeling in front of her so they could at least enjoy the sight of the baby while they waited their turn. The men held back and watched their wives affectionately. Varhog joined Tarhvek in the kitchen and helped him with the rest of the cleanup.

"How goes Myrin's recovery?" he asked with a knowing grin.

Tarhvek returned it with an equally meaningful expression. "Perfectly," he assured him. "Your sister is uncommon, even among the Urgralgra. I'm a lucky ram. I think _I_ am the most tired of any of us. She sleeps all day with the baby, insisting I take care of all the cooking and cleaning. Then when she needs me for any _other_ purposes, I'm relieved of my housekeeping duties for a time. The milk is nice." He laughed as Myrin looked at him with a sly smile, and Varhog joined him.

"You can resume intimacy so soon?" Arya asked in surprise. "Isn't it better to wait for your womb to fully heal?"

"Wait, something even _you_ don't know?" Eragon teased.

"Precisely," Arya returned smoothly. "Which is why I asked. I need to know this secret if you're to be as lucky as Tarhvek." Everyone laughed.

Myrin answered, "Yes, Arya. Eating the tree of life allows for such a swift recovery. Already my womb is sufficiently recovered and the bleeding is a minimal spotting. It helps that I barely get up to do anything. All I do all day is lay in bed or sit on the sofa and have everyone wait on me hand and foot. Everyone needs to have a new baby like this. I'm sure I get better treatment than you, Lady Nightstalker. At night, once the baby has had his fill, I'm so perfectly rested and the nursing is so stimulating, why then I just turn over and carry on with Tarhvek. Poor ram. He has been awakened more times than even he would probably care for."

"There are worse things, Myrin," Tarhvek quickly assured her. "I don't mind."

The males laughed appreciatively. Nor could they see themselves minding being awoken repeatedly for such a purpose. "It's wonderful the way you do things here," Arya said honestly. "I'm going to borrow that one, if you don't mind. Maybe we'll have to come back here for the birth, Eragon, so I too can have such assistance."

The baby had begun to squirm uncomfortably in Nasuada's arms. She looked at Myrin apologetically. "He seemed fine a moment ago," she said. "Could he be hungry again?"

"Possibly," Myrin allowed. "But more likely is that he needs to relieve himself, since he just had such a large meal. Tarhvek, would you help him, please?"

"Of course, beautiful," Tarhvek said. The large ram came around the table and approached Nasuada. The two on the floor scooted to the side so he could reach her. He carefully took the baby and returned with him to the kitchen, loosening the blankets around his bottom half and holding him over the sink. "There you go, son," Tarhvek invited encouragingly, making a "ssss" sound. All but Varhog were astonished to witness the baby promptly relieve himself on his father's cue.

"How did you do that?" Arya demanded.

"What do you mean?" Tarhvek asked in confusion.

"I mean . . . do all Urgralgra babies relieve themselves in this manner?" Arya clarified. "Don't you use any cloths to catch their waste?"

Tarhvek looked at Myrin, mystified. Myrin answered, "Yes, Arya, this is how our babies relieve themselves. Do you mean to say that babies of other races do it differently?"

"Yes!" Arya spluttered. "Much differently! We put cloths around their bottoms to catch their waste and change them once soiled. Are you implying that all babies are capable of such an accomplishment?" She was truly stunned.

Myrin was in turn equally astounded. "That's barbaric! You force them to sit in their own waste until you realize they need to be changed? Every baby—and I don't see why the same wouldn't be true of every race—knows when it needs to relieve itself. They indicate their need in any number of nonverbal ways—squirming, fussing at the breast by popping on and off, passing gas, grunting. If an attentive caregiver notices these signs, it's as easy as what Tarhvek just did to uncover the baby and help him relieve himself in any number of acceptable receptacles such as the sink, the chamber pot, a nearby bush, or just over the dirt. We often use a cue sound, as Tarhvek did, so the baby quickly learns what such behavior means and when it's an appropriate time to take care of his need. I can't imagine any other way. We Urgralgra don't even have such cloths. If the baby's signals ever go unnoticed or ignored long enough that he has no choice but to relieve himself in his blankets, it's thought to be a reflection of the caregiver's lack of attentiveness, not the baby's fault. He is helpless to get himself where he needs to go. So if your babies are forced to soil themselves when infants, how do they ever learn to relieve themselves as do the older children and adults?"

As logical as Myrin's explanation seemed to her as an elf, Arya looked ashamed to have to explain the alternative she was familiar with. "I can't believe we never thought of this," she confessed. "We simply teach them the preferred place to take care of such needs when they're old enough to walk and communicate more verbally. Some children take to it quite readily, where others fight it defiantly and wish to continue in the familiar way of relieving themselves into the cloths, which becomes more tedious and unpleasant as their diets become more varied. The breastfed baby is not such a chore to change, but a stubborn two or three-year-old? That's a different story."

Myrin asked the humans, "Is it the same for humans? Using these cloths?"

Eragon and Murtagh shrugged uncertainly, but Willow and Nasuada nodded confidently. "Most assuredly," Willow said. "But your way seems much more sensitive and hygienic. As do all of your ways. What Tarhvek just did looked so effortless. Much less work than changing soiled baby cloths. But don't you worry about the waste being in the sink?"

"With one this new, no," Myrin answered. "All he eats or drinks is my milk, which comes straight from my breast. It's a sterile food and it goes into his sterile body. It comes out sterile as well. If he seems to need to do the other, we usually take him to the chamber pot, but with urine we just rinse it out and carry on. As they get older and start eating different foods, we usually take them to the chamber pot every time when inside or help them go outside. They learn these are the expected places to take care of this business and it's nothing for them to continue on as they learn to walk. It's just the normal way. By the time they're starting to eat more foods from our diet, they're also often sitting up better by themselves, so their control of their bodies allows for greater flexibility."

"I'm going to do this," Willow decided. "With two, I'll need lots of help, Yelloweyes."

"You'll get it," Varhog promised. "I would have naturally done it anyway. It's simply a way of life here in my village. If you had started talking about cloths and me changing them, I would have looked at you cross-eyed, like Tarhvek just did." He grinned. "I can't imagine how unpleasant that would be."

Eragon admitted, "I wasn't looking forward to it. Let's do this too, Arya. It seems a father could take pride in helping his little one be more comfortable in this way. I know only you can do the best job of feeding the baby, and I was slightly worried I wouldn't be much help."

"Most definitely," Arya said. "It doesn't take an elf more than one explanation to accept something so perfectly logical as the best way of doing it." Nasuada agreed with a dip of her head, as did Murtagh.

Tarhvek had bundled the baby again. After giving him an affectionate kiss, he brought him back around to the front room and extended him toward the females. "Back to you, Lady Nightstalker? Or is it someone else's turn?"

"May I, please?" Arya asked hopefully.

"Certainly," the proud father said as he handed the baby over.

Arya gathered him into her arms and gazed down at him dotingly. "Aren't you clever, little one?" she crooned. Eragon moved places so he could better see her face and observe her joy interacting with the newborn.

The baby looked at her with alert, bright eyes. Arya put a finger in his searching palm, and he grasped it tightly. "Strong too, aren't you? Just like your father and the uncle you were named for." She leaned down, nuzzling her nose against his. The baby scrunched up his face and sneezed. Arya laughed adoringly and hummed to him as she pressed him to her chest. She looked at Eragon in delight, obviously so excited for the time she would get to do this all day with their baby.

Eragon's eyes shone as he witnessed her unreserved elation. The baby attempted with uncoordinated jerks of his hand to get the fist closed around Arya's finger into his mouth. She sighed reluctantly, recognizing the subtle signal that he was getting hungry again.

Arya handed the baby to Willow with a noble, "You deserve a turn too before he needs to go back to his mother for more milk." Willow accepted the baby eagerly. Arya continued, "I could hold him all day. Isn't it strange how such a small little creature, with no ability to talk or even interact much, can captivate the heart of any female in the room? It must be part of the instinctive urge that drives us to sacrifice so much to care for them. They don't have the same effect on the males until they get older and can interact more socially."

Willow nodded, clearly falling victim to the charm of the tiny bundle. He yawned, and when she brushed her nose against his cheek, he turned expectantly with a wide mouth, searching for what he must have hoped was his mother's breast. Willow laughed softly. "Sorry to tease you, Varhog. I seem to be good at that with the one whose name you bear." Varhog smiled at her remark, and Willow looked over at him with eyes full of wonder and excitement. "This will be us soon, sweetheart! And with two, we'll each always have one to hold." Varhog nodded, his eyes looking similarly emotional at his wife's joy with the baby.

When the baby let out a tentative squawk, Willow sighed reluctantly—exactly like Arya had—and handed him back to Myrin. "Hello, honey," his mother welcomed. "No matter how many I have, I find myself coveting them more and more at this young age. They grow so quickly and it's so hard to remember how small they start out once they're bigger. That's why I jealously insist on having the first several days all to myself and my mate. I can get my fill as much as possible before relinquishing my hold on my baby for a time." She expertly bared one breast and brought the baby to it. He opened his mouth widely once more, receiving now for his reward his mother's breast and the warm milk he wanted.

"You make that look so easy and natural," Willow commented, observing with interest.

"Yes, Willow," Myrin said. "When you see it as often as we do growing up, it's as easy and natural as breathing. When there are any difficulties, dozens of females can immediately come to your aid and assist you and your baby until all is well once more."

"We definitely need to have our babies here, Varhog," Willow said to him. Then she looked at Arya. "Arya, might I convince you and Eragon to be present? If you would, I'd be perfectly happy. Maybe we could return to the Isle for a time after yours is born and travel back here before ours are."

"It won't take much convincing, Willow," Arya replied. "I'd love nothing more than to be present for your birth and for it to happen here. This seems the best place in the world for things such as birth and babies." Willow beamed.

Myrin said, "My mother informed me that you all mean to leave soon. Do you know when?"

Varhog answered her. "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning, Myrin, and traveling north to Carvahall, where Firesword's cousin lives. We plan to stay much of the winter, but if the trip truly only takes a day on dragon, then I see no reason why we shouldn't be able to return here as often as we please, if we find ourselves enjoying a patch of weather that would allow the flight."

Myrin nodded, apparently satisfied by his answer. "I'm starting to feel tired," she told them. "One of the blessed side effects of nursing is feeling relaxed and content. I think I might retire for a nap with this little fellow. Will you please help me, Tarhvek?"

All of the women surrounding Myrin jumped up and retreated to stand by their husbands as Tarhvek once again approached the sofa. He bent down, lifting Myrin as easily as he had lifted the baby, without disturbing their son during his meal. He seemed to have plenty of practice with everything they had observed him doing that day. Myrin smiled at him gratefully, resting her head against him and saying, "Thank you all for coming today. Thank you for bringing my brother back to me for a visit at this special time in my life. If I don't see you again before you depart, then farewell. Until we meet again." She reached toward Varhog as Tarhvek passed him, and her mate stopped.

Varhog took her hand and kissed it. "Thank _you_ , Myrin. I can't think of a better wedding gift to me and Willow than sharing these moments with us. We're so excited to join you as parents in several more months. I love you." Willow nodded her earnest agreement.

Myrin drew Varhog's hand to her face and rested her cheek in it for a moment. "I love you too, Varhog. I'm so glad you came. And you, Willow." She kissed his hand in turn before releasing it.

Tarhvek took her back to the bedroom, and all of the couples left the hut to make the needed preparations for their departure the following day. Before they went their separate ways, Arya requested of Willow, "Will you have Sunset tell Fírnen how to get to that hot spring? I'm going to make Eragon take me there tonight. It will be the last chance we have before we leave and possibly the last before the snow is gone."

Willow grinned. "Consider it done, sister. And enjoy yourselves. It's marvelous."


	6. Steelskull

6\. Steelskull

When Willow and Varhog arrived at their hut, two of the wolves were there. Willow immediately recognized the black female she had first saved, the one who had almost succumbed to suffocation after having her throat crushed. The other was _her_ wolf, the gray one whose skull had been crushed. They sat peacefully in the snow with their paws overlapping, clearly waiting for her and Varhog to return. In front of them was a plump dead hare.

Willow approached them eagerly. "Hello," she greeted in the ancient language as she knelt in front of the wolves. "I think I'll name you." She touched the gray one, stroking his head. "You are Steelskull. Having a skull strong enough to withstand the kick of a desperate Urgal ram is admirable indeed. But for short, I'll call you Steel. It matches your color too." Steel licked her hand, apparently pleased.

Then Willow regarded the female. "Is this your mate?" she asked Steel, and his eyes revealed his confirmation. "Pleased to meet you," Willow said politely, though they had already met. "Would you like a name too?" she asked the black wolf, who also licked her hand.

Willow laughed. "Very well," she said. "Let me think a moment." She ran her fingers through the wolf's coarse black fur, staring into her deep brown eyes. "You have eyes like mine," Willow observed as she tried to think of a fitting name for the beast. "My mate calls me Eartheyes because they're the color of earth. But you have such beautiful black fur. Hmm. You're fearless—you attacked first out of your whole pack. You're strong—you held on long enough to be saved. Courageous. Tenacious. How about 'Boldclaw'? Bold for your color, your bravery, and your determination to live. Is this pleasing? I'm sorry I can't come up with something better on such short notice."

The wolf licked Willow's hand again then nudged the rabbit toward her, lifting her snout toward Varhog, who had been observing the whole exchange with renewed amazement. Willow asked, "Is this for my mate?" The wolf showed her approval in her eyes.

Willow turned to look at Varhog in astonishment, and tears came to her eyes as she looked back at the wolves. "Thank you," she breathed fervently. "That was so thoughtful. He's very grateful." She leaned forward and hugged around the neck of each great animal. "May we meet again soon, Steel and Boldclaw. Oh, I should tell you. My mate and I are leaving tomorrow for some time. Whenever we return to visit, we'll stay here, but many moons will come and go in between those times." The wolves appeared to understand her, and they each arose, towering over her since she was kneeling. They touched their snouts to her forehead one after the other and padded off silently, giving Varhog a respectful look as they did.

Willow remained kneeling in the snow, dumbstruck by what had just occurred, until Varhog approached her. The animals had showed an amazing display of intelligence, comprehension, critical thinking, and thoughtfulness. How was it possible? Varhog helped her to her feet and reached for the rabbit.

"That was amazing," he said. "It seems they _love_ you, Willow. To show that degree of emotion? I'm at a complete loss for an explanation."

"Does there need to be one, Varhog? They're intelligent, caring beasts. It's not so hard to imagine, given what we know about dragons."

"True," Varhog allowed. "What do you say to more soup tonight?"

"Perfect," Willow agreed.

"Then I'll fetch a knife and clean this up out here while you get it started. Fair enough?"

Willow kissed his cheek in acceptance. "I'll see what I can make of that bread, if anything," she said with a smile and went into the hut.

-:-:-:-


	7. Farewells

7\. Farewells

By early the next morning, all of the Riders were prepared to depart the Urgralgra village near Lake Fläm. After having packed all they needed and dressing warmly, Willow and Varhog simply flew on Black Thunder to meet Arya and Eragon in the village square, with Sunset close behind. Thorn was also present with Murtagh and Nasuada, as were Fírnen and Saphira with their two Riders. The two single rams who would be accompanying the Riders waited close by.

In addition to a large group of Urgralgra assembled to see their guests off, Willow noticed Breetuk and two other young female Urgals near Raygog and the other ram, whom she guessed was Pultog. One of the young females gave Pultog a hug and said something to him.

Willow made her way over to the five young adults. "Good morning!" she greeted them. "How do you feel about this adventure, Raygog?"

Raygog embraced her before answering, giving Varhog a teasing grin. "Excited!" he declared. "I've already proven myself in the Games last year but we might get the chance to see some real fighting up north."

The female Urgal who had hugged Pultog rolled her eyes. "You two!" she cried in exasperation. "So anxious to go off and get yourselves killed!" The other female whom Willow did not recognize nodded slightly, her eyes flitting to Raygog before she looked back at the one who had spoken.

"No, Nayvi," Pultog said. "Just to prove ourselves worthy of girls like you."

"You already have, Pul," Nayvi insisted. "Why you haven't done anything beyond that is still a mystery to me." She huffed, and Pultog grinned.

Breetuk laughed at her friends and, while taking the other female by the hand, said to Willow, "Willow, this is our cousin, Yvenna." She gestured toward the outspoken female next and said, "This is my best friend Nayvek. She's Tarhvek's youngest sister. And this is her friend Pultog. Mine too, I suppose. On good days."

Pultog laughed, and Nayvek demanded, " _Friend?_ I suppose we really only are friends. Still." Willow could hear the resentment in her tone as Nayvek glared pointedly at Pultog.

Pultog chuckled again and bashed his fists to his forehead. "Nar Willow," he said. "It's an honor to be in your presence."

Willow was relieved to hear his teasing tone. "Oh please!" she cried. "Not you too! Just Willow is fine. It's nice to meet you, Pultog. Are you also excited for this trip?"

"Of course!" he cried. "Which Urgralgra ram wouldn't be? And we get to fly on a dragon too! That makes it even better."

"I _am_ a little jealous about that," Nayvek admitted.

"Didn't you get a ride when Varhog and I got married, or the following week?" Willow wondered.

"Nope," Nayvek said. "It's no matter."

"I'll make sure you get one when we return," Willow promised. "It's also nice to meet you, Nayvek. We'll make sure Pultog stays safe and returns here."

"So he can keep dragging his feet?" Nayvek said sullenly.

"The best ones are worth the wait," Willow joked.

Varhog had been standing right by her side during the whole exchange, and he wrapped his arms around her. He then addressed his cousin, "Hello, Yvenna. It has been a long time, hasn't it? When I left, you were only nine."

"Yes, that's right," Yvenna said. "It's nice to see you again, cousin. I was shocked when I heard you announce that you wanted to have a human for your mate. But I couldn't even remember that emotion after I saw her nearly kill my sire. Thank you for healing him," she said to Willow. "I wouldn't have been able to stand losing both my parents."

"It's the worst thing imaginable," Willow said gently. "I'm glad I had the skill to heal your father. I didn't want to fight him, but I needed to show him I was worthy of Varhog in a way that would be meaningful to your people."

Yvenna's eyes widened. "Have you lost both of your parents?"

"Yes, they have both passed away," Willow replied, "along with my only brother."

"Oh," Yvenna breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Willow said. "Having a family like Varhog's has been amazing."

"Well, it's an honor to meet you, Nar Willow," Yvenna said.

"Please," Willow insisted. "Just Willow. I suppose we could even consider ourselves cousins now."

Yvenna smiled timidly. "I suppose so." She glanced again at Raygog and by the way he quickly looked away, Willow guessed he had been staring at Yvenna the whole time. Yvenna looked uncertain for a moment, then she seemed to make a silent decision. She stepped over to Raygog and gave him a brief hug. "Be careful, cousin," she said quietly as she moved away.

Raygog was obviously surprised by her gesture. His gaze darted across the square to Nar Garzhvog, and Willow noticed his relief that the war chief was speaking with Eragon. He looked regretful that Yvenna moved away from him so quickly. "I will, Yvenna," he promised.

Breetuk shrewdly observed the exchange and said, "Yes, brother. Be careful. No need to be reckless now that you've already proven yourself worthy of a mate."

Raygog glanced up at his sister with an exasperated expression. As he had once before he said, "I doubt I'll be taking a mate any time soon, Bree."

Willow noticed Yvenna look down at the ground at his words and wondered what the strange conversation could mean. She didn't have much time to consider it, however, because Myrintuk approached at that moment and began handing out scarves, gloves, earmuffs, and other warm winter clothing. Once they were all fitted as warmly as possible, they said their farewells and gave their embraces to the other members of Varhog's family.

All of Varhog's nieces and nephews surrounded him sadly. They had barely had any time to play with him, and Varhog was also obviously disappointed. He knelt down in their midst and gave each of them a tight embrace as he spoke softly in Urgralish. Willow learned from his concurrent translation in her mind—she was always impressed at how he could do that—that he was promising each of them that he and Willow would soon return, and when they did, they would take the children to build all sorts of fun things and go sledding and enjoy all of the other winter activities possible in the snow. Their eyes were wide in anticipation of the time when his promises would be fulfilled. Willow was also excited. Growing up in a southern coastal city had prevented her from ever being such a fortunate child.

The Riders and those traveling with them then made their departure. The sapphire blue dragon carried Angela and Solembum. The emerald green one flew with Eragon and Arya on his back. Two excited Urgal rams rode the monstrous obsidian one. Willow and Varhog sat on the dazzling pink-orange dragon. And the high queen and her noble husband flew with his ruby red mount.

The group traveled tirelessly, determined to arrive at their destination by nightfall. The weather was perfect for the flight, clear and windless, which allowed the dragons to make excellent time. The Riders ate and dozed as they flew, finding that all of their layers of clothing and blankets kept them surprisingly warm.

Sunset and Fírnen flew least carefully, swirling around one another gracefully, since their Riders were all Dragon Riders and most familiar with the exhilaration of flying on dragon back.

Saphira once good-naturedly warned Sunset, _Careful, sister. Don't get too familiar with him._

They shared their conversation with their four Riders, and Sunset's amusement was obvious. _Never fear, noble Saphira. I have eyes only for this monstrous beast._ She said this as she looped around Black Thunder, who snapped at her playfully.

Fírnen's deep voice entered their minds as he commented, _It appears we started a trend, Saphira. Now Sunset and Black Thunder are mates like their Riders._

Willow laughed. _And they're more like Varhog and myself than you and Saphira are like Arya and Eragon. Saphira, what's this about you becoming a mother?_

Saphira's thoughts revealed her pride and happiness. _Once the egg is fully developed, I can choose to carry it for a while longer before laying it. It will be safe within my body until then, but it will not be ready for some time yet._

 _How wonderful!_ Willow exclaimed exuberantly. _I wonder what color it will be. Something beautiful certainly, based off yours and Fírnen's colors. Hmm. Sunset, do you think an egg from you and Black Thunder would be a dull brown? That's depressing. I have no idea how such things work._

 _We may yet find out,_ Sunset said mysteriously. _Perhaps around the time your twins are born._

 _What!_ Willow exclaimed. _Do you mean to say that you'll be a mother? Does one say 'expecting' or 'pregnant' with dragons? I hardly know, but whatever the proper term, congratulations, Sunset! That's splendid!_

Varhog congratulated Black Thunder, _Well done, my father. Now it appears you'll be a father literally and not just figuratively._ Eragon and Arya also shared their congratulations.

The rest of the flight passed uneventfully. They landed only twice for the dragons to drink and for the Riders to relieve themselves. All other needs were taken care of while flying, and the dragons were not hungry.

As the sun began to set, Eragon and Saphira felt a growing excitement that the land below them became increasingly familiar as the location of their births and upbringings. They had already passed Therinsford and were following the Anora River northward to their final destination. As dusk fell, they spotted Carvahall, and Eragon whooped, squeezing Arya tightly and excitedly crying, _There it is!_


	8. Carvahall

8\. Carvahall

The town had indeed grown and was splendid to behold, just as Roran had described. The large castle Roran so often mentioned was the most obvious landmark, standing out above all surrounding structures on the hill whereon he and Eragon had always envisioned it. Eragon noticed the sturdy wall and fortifications extending from either side of the castle around the whole perimeter of the town. There was a large town square, which is where Eragon directed Fírnen. If they landed one at a time, there would be sufficient space for the five dragons.

Fírnen landed first. The village had been quiet, but the thundering wings of the dragons brought bewildered villagers to their doors, frightened and confused by what could possibly be creating the noise. Fírnen moved to one side and folded his wings so Saphira could follow him. By then townspeople were rushing from their homes, alerting their neighbors with cries of astonishment and excitement.

Next came Sunset with Varhog and Willow. More and more villagers flooded the square with torches or lanterns in hand to ward off the fast-falling darkness. Eragon searched the crowd anxiously, recognizing many beloved faces but not yet seeing his cousin and brother.

Thorn landed fourth with Murtagh and Nasuada. Then Black Thunder descended with the loudest gusts of them all. The large crowd shouted and cheered at the sight. Saphira was so excited that she loosed a pennant of dazzling flames straight into the night sky, lighting it as if it was midday. Not to be outdone, Sunset copied her, and the gorgeous deep pink hue filled the sky as if time had rewound and the sunset was once again upon them. Fírnen followed with his blazing emerald inferno, and it was by this light that Eragon first identified Roran, swiftly making his way through the crowd from the direction of the magnificent castle.

Eragon and Arya quickly dismounted so they would be on the ground when Roran reached them. Roran made his way easily, since the townspeople parted respectfully for their leader. When he was a dozen feet away from Eragon, he stopped and stared, clearly stunned by the sight before him.

Eragon grinned, inexpressibly excited. "Hello, Roran. Surprise!" Then he laughed loudly, closing the gap between them so he could clap Roran into a tight embrace. Katrina then appeared, surrounded by their four children, having moved more slowly than her husband in her advanced stage of pregnancy. "Katrina!" Eragon exclaimed, releasing the dumbfounded Roran to hug his wife. "And Ismira! Hello, niece. I haven't seen you in ten years! Look how you have grown!" He laughed joyfully. "And you must be Roran," he said to the handsome lad next in line. "You're the spitting image of my cousin. I'm Eragon, your uncle. Pleased to meet you." Eragon extended a hand to shake the boy's, who shyly reciprocated. Then Eragon hugged him too.

"And you must be Sloan," he said, squatting down in front of the next boy, who looked to be about six. "And how like him you look," Eragon quietly commented, struck by the uncanny resemblance of the dark-eyed boy to the grandfather whose name he bore. After giving him a warm hug, Eragon turned his attention to the pretty little girl with Katrina's eyes and Roran's hair. "Marian," he greeted. "I'm your Uncle Eragon. I'm so happy to meet you. So happy!"

Eragon swept the girl into an embrace, and she seemed completely unafraid by his forward kindness, though he was a stranger to her. Eragon must have been enough like her father to put her at ease. Marian placed her hands on his beard and planted a sweet kiss right on Eragon's mouth. He laughed and pressed her small head into his shoulder. "Thank you!" he cried delightedly. "You're only the second girl ever to do that, did you know that? Here's the first right here. This is my wife, Arya. She's an elf. See her lovely slanted eyebrows and pointed ears?" The girl was curiously fingering Eragon's ears where they pointed. "I know, mine are too, but I'm a human, I promise. I just look like an elf because I have a dragon. See that beautiful blue one? That's Saphira, and she's the oldest and wisest of all these others." He laughed as Saphira rumbled proudly. "She hatched right in this village over twelve years ago. We're so happy to be home!"

Roran had been observing the joyous greetings with insuppressible astonishment. Now he attempted to voice his surprise. "Eragon? How . . . ? Just yesterday. . . . You tricked me, didn't you?" Roran laughed loudly and it boomed across the square. He grabbed Eragon in another embrace as his emotions caught up to him. "I never thought I'd see you again, brother. And now here you are. And with a wife. Even Arya!" He released Eragon but kept a hand on his arm. "How did this come to be? I saw you leave never to return, and I saw her leave you. You have some explaining to do! And who are these others? Wait, let me guess. You've told me enough of the happenings on the Isle."

He turned to Willow and Varhog, who had joined them after dismounting from Sunset. He stiffened slightly as his eyes first fell on Varhog. Then recognition bloomed across his face. "Yarbog?" he wondered in disbelief. "No, that can't be, but you _must_ be his brother. You look too much alike. So that would make you Varhog, the first Urgal Rider. Am I right?"

Varhog nodded and extended his hand, familiar with the human greeting. "You're right, Stronghammer. And your reputation is no small thing among my kind, particularly my clan. This woman right here is the only other human we're aware of who has bested an Urgralgra ram in hand-to-hand combat."

Roran raised his eyebrows in disbelief as he looked at Willow. "Is that so?" he said in amazement. "You've bested an Urgal ram?" Willow smiled and nodded. "Who?" Roran demanded.

"This great brute," Willow said, holding up the hand she had joined with Varhog's. "And his brother, Yarbog, like yourself. And Nar Garzhvog."

"Nar . . . ?" This was too much for Roran. " _How_ is that possible? You must be an incredible fighter!" He shook his head admiringly, trying to picture it. "But forgive me! How rude of me! I haven't even introduced myself or guessed your name. It's not that hard. The only female Rider besides Arya. You must be Willow."

Willow curtsied slightly, still smiling delightedly. "I _am_ Willow," she confirmed. "But there is now another female Rider. The newest one. She was just chosen a few weeks ago in Ellesméra."

"At least Eragon was telling the truth about something," Roran said. "And judging by how you're holding hands and standing so close to this Urgal ram, that would make you . . ."

"His mate," Willow confirmed proudly.

"Truly?" Roran's previous astonishment returned doubly strong. "I never thought to hear such a thing. Allying ourselves with the Urgals seemed impossible enough during the war, and with the increasing skirmishes we're dealing with, feelings are hardening yet again. But to have a human and Urgal willingly join as mates? It seems the Urgals would have looked on the idea with just as much shock as I now am. Was that not the case?"

"Indeed," Willow said. "To say the least. Which is why I had to fight those three, to prove I was worthy to marry an Urgralgra ram and specifically _this_ ram. He's highly revered by his people as first Urgal Dragon Rider. Apparently I did, however. Here I am, carrying his two babies inside of me."

Roran covered his mouth to muffle his exclamation of shock, which was reaching new heights every moment. Willow laughed at his reaction. "I suppose we must accustom ourselves to this, Yelloweyes," she said to Varhog.

"It might not be so shocking to him if you weren't so blatantly forward in how you share it," Varhog replied dryly, putting his arm around her.

"I'm not ashamed to be carrying your babies," Willow objected. "No matter if the way I say it makes it uncomfortably obvious to him how it came to be. Any fool could figure that out for himself." Now _she_ clapped her hand over her mouth. "Not that I'm implying I think you're a fool, Roran!" she cried apologetically. "Sometimes my honest mouth opens wide enough for my foot to fit. Forgive me!"

Roran only laughed, already liking the couple immensely. "No matter. I wasn't offended. Well, congratulations, for they seem to be in order. And who do we have here?" Roran looked at Angela and Solembum.

"Angela the herbalist and Solembum the werecat," Eragon replied. "You remember them from the war?"

"Yes, of course!" Roran cried. "It's an honor to have you here! Is that you, Your Majesty?" Roran said to Nasuada, who inclined her head regally. "The honor increases every moment! And I recognize this red dragon. There was a time his appearance scared the living daylights out of everyone. So you must be my other cousin, Murtagh. I had always hoped to be able to meet you. After I knew you didn't want to kill us all anymore, of course."

Murtagh smiled wryly. "I never wanted to kill anyone, Roran," he said. "That was Galbatorix using me to do his dirty work. And I feel the same. I've always wanted to meet my other famous cousin. The one who did nearly as much good as Eragon without a dragon or magic. I understand the name Stronghammer is no exaggeration. Is that still the case, all these years later?"

"Perhaps," Roran said modestly. "I mostly only wield a shovel or hoe these days, but when steel must meet steel, my hammer is always in my hand. Well met, cousin!" He moved forward enough to give Murtagh an embrace, which Murtagh earnestly returned.

Roran then said, "I noticed you were flying with Her Majesty."

"Indeed I was," Murtagh said proudly. "Her Majesty is my new wife. You were right that something momentous had recently occurred in Ilirea. We all showed up, and I married the queen the next day. It's only been two and a half weeks."

Roran laughed heartily. "Congratulations! Eragon, I can't believe you pulled the wool over my eyes. All of these Riders were with you when you scryed me, weren't they?"

"Aye, Roran," Eragon confirmed. "At Nar Garzhvog's request, we have also brought two new fighting rams to replace those injured last week." Raygog and Pultog had been hanging back, conscious of the hostile stares directed toward them by some of the villagers. Eragon waved them forward. "This is Raygog, Varhog's youngest brother, and Pultog. Do you two prefer to stay with the other Urgals?"

Raygog said, "Certainly. We're at your service, Stronghammer." He bashed his fists to his forehead.

"I'm glad to have two new fighters here," Roran said honestly. "Though I can't say all the villagers share my gratitude. The Urgals stay in the huts they built for themselves outside the city wall. But you're welcome to stay the night in the castle with the rest of us. There's plenty of room."

"We'd rather be where we can fulfill our assignment should the need arise," Raygog said. "It's an honor to meet you, Stronghammer. As I've told Willow, a younger brother always appreciates when someone can put one of his merciless older brothers in his place. And I have three, so knowing that two have been forced into submission by humans is sweet retribution."

Roran laughed. "You'll reach the barracks quickest by heading through the gate in front of the castle."

"Yes, sir!" Raygog barked. He grinned at Willow and Varhog as he and Pultog headed off in the indicated direction.

Roran turned back to all the others. "Welcome to Carvahall!" he cried. "No visitors have ever been so welcome." He glanced over at Eragon. "You sly dog, you! I've never had a better surprise in all my life! I haven't seen or heard you smile and laugh like this in over a decade. How did you pull off your act yesterday? You must have been close to arrive so soon."

Eragon laughed. "We were in Varhog's village near Lake Fläm. And believe me, it was most difficult to assume my miserable face of old. Especially at your joke about Saphira dropping me. I dare say she wanted to on more than one occasion for how depressing I always was." Saphira snorted, and a streak of blue flames shot out of her nostrils. Eragon grinned at her then continued, "I'm glad I surprised you and that it has been welcome. I was worried you might die of shock. You _are_ getting rather elderly."

Roran guffawed, reaching out to clap Eragon in a headlock that would have once bowed him over and forced him to the ground. But not only was Eragon stronger than Roran, his muscles were also equally as bulky now and he was taller than his cousin. He surprised Roran by gracefully evading the hold and taking his feet out from under him. This led to a good-natured scuffle in the snow, from which Eragon clearly emerged triumphant. He extended a hand down to Roran to help him to his feet. "I suppose I _am_ getting rather old if you can take me down that easily," Roran admitted ruefully.

"No, brother. If you had a dragon, you would still be far my superior. That's my only advantage. Thank you, Saphira," he said with a formal bow in her direction. She roared, loosing another stream of gorgeous blue fire, which warmed the cold night air. "I also hit another growth spurt after leaving Alagaёsia, which gave me this extra height and muscle. I'd no doubt be more boastful about it if I hadn't been surrounded on the Isle by two dozen tall elves and two hugely muscular Urgals. A seven and eight foot tall Urgal with at least two hundred extra pounds of muscle make anyone feel puny and insignificant."

"I know exactly what you mean," Roran said. "I've rarely had to fight the Urgals who come seeking trouble, but being around the friendly ones always reminds me what formidable foes they are. I'm glad we have some on our side. I don't think my men would stand much of a chance against those Kull who come down out of the mountains."

"Garzhvog said much the same thing, but he also expressed similar concern that the villagers here grow impatient with the frequent attacks. We have a lot to discuss, but it's getting late and is cold out here. I'm worried about the children."

Eragon turned toward them and laughed when Katrina gave him another awkward embrace, her large belly forcing him to bend at an unusual angle. "I'm so happy to see you, Eragon!" Katrina gushed. "I never thought we would again! This has been the most welcome surprise I could have ever imagined. I'm sorry about this great belly. I can hardly reach you around it!" She laughed.

Eragon held his hands over her belly, looking at her hopefully. "May I?" he asked. Katrina seemed surprised that he wanted to but nodded her approval, so Eragon gently touched the swelling mound. "I'm so excited, Katrina. Soon Arya's will be like this, and I'll get to be a father like Roran. Nothing makes me happier than thinking about that. Seeing your great belly only fills me with anticipation."

The baby actually moved right at that moment, and Katrina's belly rolled noticeably under his hands. Eragon exclaimed in surprise and delight. "Arya, feel this!" he cried. She was right next to him so he grabbed one of her hands, placing it where his had been. The baby stretched again, making a hard little lump appear in Katrina's belly right under her hand.

"Oh!" Arya breathed in wonder. "How exquisite! I'm counting down the days when we get to feel our baby move. I can see it all the time with my mind, but I long for this. Thank you, Katrina!" Tears filled Arya's eyes.

"You are most welcome," Katrina replied. "I've always considered pregnancy a great gift. It's such a wonder to feel a little life growing inside. This baby seems to be particularly fond of you two. It moved quite a bit just now, which gets harder as the days go by and its quarters grow tighter. And congratulations, by the way! Eragon, I'm so happy you're married to the woman you love. That you are also expecting a baby only makes this surprise all the sweeter and more perfect!"

"Aye, brother," Roran agreed. "Congratulations. On your marriage and your child." The emotion returned to his voice and eyes. "Thank you for coming to see us," he said earnestly. "I hope you mean to stay for some time. We have ten years to catch up on."

"We mean to stay most of the winter, Roran. You are the one I have most wanted to see and missed most next to Arya. Now that I'm fortunate enough to have her as my wife, I have been most anxious to come visit you. With the weather as it is this early in the season, we might be here some months. Arya wanted to be present to help with Katrina's birth, if such assistance would be welcome, or at the very least to help with the children. From here we'll make our way to Ellesméra, but not until early spring before our baby is due. So will you show me this castle you have told me so much about? Let's get these children in out of the cold."

"Certainly," Roran said. He called to the villagers, who had been murmuring among themselves, the nearest trying to overhear as much as they could to spread word of the exciting events. All of the others were admiring the beautiful dragons, whose glittering scales were gleaming in the torch and lantern light. Roran said, "Good townsfolk! We have had a most unexpected occurrence this evening. Before the bitter cold of night descends upon us, let us return to the safety of our homes. But I invite you to come the castle tomorrow and meet our esteemed guests by the light of day. The Dragon Riders have come to Carvahall!" The townspeople let out a mighty cheer then slowly began to disperse.

Roran turned back to Eragon. "Come, brother. Bring your wife and companions. These dragons are so huge now, I fear only one will fit, but one is welcome."

Eragon laughed. "They don't prefer the cold, but they'll do well enough. I imagine they'll stay together. Saphira and Arya's dragon, Fírnen, are now mates. And Willow's and Varhog's dragons—the pink and black one—are also mates, coincidentally enough. They'll most likely prefer being close together for the warmth of shared body heat. They can melt the snow from the ground and warm an area with their fire. I suppose Thorn might take you up on your offer. What do you say, Murtagh?"

Murtagh said, "He would be glad to. There are some advantages to not having a mate, old friend." He chuckled as Thorn rumbled mildly. "Meet us up there after these people have had a chance to get out of the way."

All of the dragons waited until the villagers had cleared the square. They took off as they had landed, one after the other. The mated pairs flew in the direction of the trees, and Thorn flew toward the castle, landing on the hillside.

The Riders, their companions, and Roran's family walked together up the hill to the castle. Angela and Solembum immediately excused themselves and were shown to a room. Katrina and the children also disappeared to go to sleep. Not long after the rest of the group settled around a blazing fire, Willow and Varhog also retired for the night. But Eragon and Murtagh—with their sleeping wives in their arms—stayed awake long into the night, fighting their exhaustion as they attempted to begin the impossible task of catching up with their cousin on the previous decade.

-:-:-

Time in Carvahall passed swiftly and joyfully. Eragon was delighted to become reacquainted with the friends and mentors of his youth. He was most excited to see Horst, Elain, their children, and even their grandchildren. Hope was a lovely fair-haired lass of almost thirteen, and she came to develop a devoted infatuation with Eragon, as she had been told numerous times of his central role in healing her birth deformity. He kindly returned the attention, as he did with all of the children.

Varhog and Willow soon became favorites. Varhog was able to stay out and play with the children far longer than any of the humans, thanks to his hotter blood and larger size. Willow often had to remind him to take a break for the sake of the children so they wouldn't get sick from overexposure. The children accepted him with unreserved glee, hanging on his horns and climbing all over him whenever he would allow, which was always.

Roran insisted on seeing Willow defeat Varhog, which she gladly did. She had become so expert in her technique that she mounted his back after his first lunge and had him on his knees less than two minutes after the fight began. After that, Horst jokingly offered her a fulltime position at his bellows and anvil, sure her strength must exceed his own. She assured him that wasn't the case and that her relatively small size next to Varhog was the only way she could defeat him.

Not two weeks after the Riders arrived, Katrina gave birth to another daughter. Arya had become a beloved aunt to all the children and had so won a place in Katrina's heart as the loyal wife of her beloved husband's cousin that Katrina wanted nothing more than to have her at the birth. With Arya's assistance, Katrina had the most comfortable and peaceful experience of any of her births.

Willow and Arya shared what they had learned from the Urgals, and Katrina boldly tried some of the more radical-seeming practices, such as consuming her placenta. To her amazement, she discovered it made a miraculous difference in her healing and energy levels after the birth, and she joked that she would be perfectly happy to have five more children now that she was aware of such a valuable recovery tool.

Arya and Willow dutifully made sure Katrina was doted on as attentively as any Urgralgra female would have been, taking over the complete work of running the huge castle by organizing and preparing meals for the family, cleaning and doing housework and laundry, and tending the children so Katrina could enjoy the fleeting time with her precious newborn.

They even demonstrated the delightful practice of helping the baby relieve herself as the Urgals did. Katrina, and especially Roran, found this most welcome. Roran much preferred it to the unpleasant task of changing soiled baby cloths and anticipated meeting his little daughter's needs in this gentle, comfortable manner. He soon became quite the expert at knowing when a fuss or squirm meant she needed to potty and when it meant she needed her mother.

Nasuada used her visit to ease the strained relations between the townspeople of Carvahall and the resident Urgal warriors. Before she and Murtagh left shortly after Roran's new daughter was born, she reminded the villagers of the importance of peace between the two races and how the humans would be in a far worse off position if not for the generous assistance of Nar Garzhvog and his fighting rams. She entreated the people to be more accepting and tolerant of the Urgals who helped defend them while she and the Dragon Riders worked on a solution to the problem presented by the attacking Urgralgra. The citizens of Carvahall rededicated themselves to their responsibility with the promise that the Dragon Riders would protect them in the event of another skirmish.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** I did a lot of rearranging in this and the following two chapters. Chapter 9 is now much different from the original version I posted, inspired by feedback from my husband. If you're reading this for the first time, I hope you find it more satisfying than he did, and if you're rereading, I hope you enjoy the changes and greater detail of what happens and how it's resolved. ~Autumn


	9. Attack

9\. Attack

One evening, some weeks after Murtagh and Nasuada had left, Willow and Varhog were heading back to the castle after visiting their dragons outside. As they climbed the hill to the main entrance, an Urgralgra war horn sounded outside the gates, followed closely by the ring of steel on steel and urgent shouting.

Varhog looked over at Willow, already moving in the direction of the noise. "Get Firesword," he commanded. "Come quickly! They're under attack!"

Willow nodded her understanding, hurrying toward the castle as he sprinted away. Varhog arrived at the scene of the clash less than two minutes after the horn sounded and was shocked by the carnage before him. Five humans were strewn headless on the ground, and three Urgals had met the same fate. He helplessly watched two more defending Urgals succumb to the gory death before even registering what had happened.

A deep voice shouted in Urgralish, "Gather the heads and leave! Now, before the other Riders arrive!"

Varhog whirled toward the voice, his astonishment only increasing as his eyes met those of a Kull ram who looked remarkably like an older version of Grintuk. The warrior regarded him sadly before stooping to grab two of the decapitated heads and stuffing them into a burlap sack. The attacking rams had already taken the other eight heads and sprinted away into the trees. Their commander—Varhog was sure he was Grintuk's sire—followed immediately after, disappearing into the gloom of the forest. The senseless murder of ten humans and Urgals had begun and concluded in less than three minutes.

A shrill female cry drew his stunned attention back to the scene of the massacre. Still struggling to process what he had witnessed, Varhog turned toward the woman, who was kneeling next to a fallen man, and forced himself to walk over and crouch down beside her.

"Birgit," Varhog said as he recognized her. She was kneeling next to her son Nolfavrell, who had a gushing wound in his side. "I can heal him," Varhog comforted, grateful the young man was still alive. "What happened here?"

Birgit stared dumbly at her son without acknowledging Varhog's words in any way, so Varhog healed the wound on the young man's torso and instructed Birgit to lie down. When she continued to vacantly ignore him, Varhog gently lowered her to the ground next to her son, covering them both with his cloak. "We'll get you inside right away," he promised, standing as Firesword ran through the gates.

Firesword came to a dead halt, incredulously surveying the sight, just as Varhog had. Ten dead bodies littered the ground, and at least that many more defending Urgals were wounded, lying on the ground and moaning in pain. Arya arrived moments after her husband and her lips parted in a silent cry of despair. Willow appeared last, and her exclamation of dismay was immediately replaced by a look of determination as she made her way to one of the wounded rams.

Varhog's stomach lurched as he recognized Raygog, whose arm had been torn from his body, kneeling on the ground with blood pouring from the gruesome injury.

"Raygog!" Willow insisted. "Lie down! I can't lift your arm up to reattach it. Quickly! You'll bleed to death!"

Raygog slumped to the ground, and Varhog suspected he had actually fainted. Pale-faced, Willow began the work of reattaching his arm.

Varhog looked down as he heard a groan right beneath him. Pultog lay there, a gaping wound through his abdomen. He reached up toward Varhog, who knelt, and gasped, "Tell Nayvek . . . I'm sorry."

"No," Varhog insisted. "You'll tell her." He carefully healed Pultog's wound, grateful the piercing blade had cleanly entered and exited his body.

As Varhog glanced up, he realized that Firesword and Arya had also begun attending to the injured warriors. Between the four of them, they quickly healed all who had survived. Then they returned to Pultog, who seemed most cognizant out of the group of defending Urgals.

"What happened here?" Firesword asked.

Pultog mechanically answered, "They came out of the trees like wraiths. All Kull. They must have been hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, during the moment of a supply delivery. They were only here a couple of minutes, as if their whole intent was to behead as many as they could as quickly as possible. They retreated just as swiftly.

"Varhog, call Black Thunder," Firesword commanded. "We must intercept those rams before they reach Anghelm and find out why they did this. And get those heads back. The townspeople were counting on us to protect them. We can't do anything about these dead men, but we owe them a full body to bury."

"Let us all go," Arya implored.

Firesword denied her with a firm shake of his head. "Not a chance, Arya. I would go by myself if I didn't need Varhog to translate for me. And Willow must stay as far away as possible. Ensure that these wounded men and rams get indoors out of the snow as quickly as possible. Inform Roran of what transpired and where Varhog and I have gone. We need to leave before he arrives. There's still too much we don't know."

As Saphira and Black Thunder soared into sight, descending near the defensive wall where the trees were sparser, Willow came over to Varhog.

"Please be careful, sweetheart," she begged, wrapping her arms around him.

"I will, Eartheyes." Varhog leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Get inside as soon as you can."

Willow nodded, stepping away next to Arya, who had likewise bid her husband farewell. The men mounted their dragons, who took flight immediately after.

Varhog knew they would catch up to the rams soon, so he wasted no time saying, _Firesword, the commander of these attacking warriors was Grintuk's sire. I'm almost certain of it, and he looked regretful about what happened. I have no guesses as to what might have caused this unprovoked ambush._

 _I do not mean to fight them if we can avoid it,_ Firesword responded. _I want to learn anything we can about Kulkarvek and recover those heads. If the rams cooperate, they will return home in peace. They're right down there. Let's fly a little ahead of them and land._

Which they did. The rams didn't stop sprinting, not even when the two dragons carefully maneuvered down through the trees. Once they were on the ground and the noise from the dragons' wings had abated, Varhog heard Grintuk's sire shouting, "Keep going! Return to the king with those heads no matter what! Your families' lives depend on it. Go! Go! I'll stay to deal with this."

Firesword sprang down, preparing to follow the rams, but Grintuk's sire yelled, "Stop! Firesword! Fight me!"

Firesword only understood his name, so Varhog quickly translated. Firesword then said, "I don't want to fight you. I want to understand. Why! Why did you do this?"

Both Dragon Riders approached the solitary Kull warrior standing fearlessly before the two angry dragons. "We attacked by order of King Kulkarvek," the ram answered. "He would not tolerate the presence of so many dragons and human Dragon Riders this close to Anghelm. He ordered us to return with the heads of ten humans and traitors or our mates, cubs, and grandcubs would be executed."

"He threatened your families?" Varhog asked, shocked that even one with a reputation such as Kulkarvek's would resort to harming innocent women and children of his own race.

"Aye, Dragon Rider Varhog. And it was no idle threat. I would not stand by and watch my family be slaughtered."

"Are you related to Grintuk?" Varhog then questioned, translating the entire conversation in Firesword's mind.

"Grintuk is my son," the Kull verified. "Kulkarvek chose me to lead this band to test my loyalty, knowing of my association with the Dragon Riders and how I view his reign. If I return alive and without those heads, my family will be killed. I know I cannot overcome you and your dragons, but I'll fight to the death rather than return to the king empty-handed. I'm sorry Dragon Riders. You should know I had no desire to comply with this atrocious decree, but Kulkarvek forced my hand in the most personal way."

"Those humans were unarmed and defenseless," Firesword angrily pointed out. "Their families deserve the small consolation of being able to bury their fallen dead with their heads."

"We had to bring human heads, Firesword," Grintuk's sire wearily replied. "We waited many days until some appeared, then we ambushed as swiftly as possible, only long enough to satisfy Kulkarvek's demands. Some of those rams were eager to attack the city and kill as many as possible, so for that reason at least, I'm grateful I was chosen as commander. I hope I spared some."

He passed one hand over his eyes before continuing, "Don't you see? I know it was wrong. I know it was unprovoked and cowardly. I hate that I did it, but . . . my family. My mate. My daughters. My small grandcubs. I would not be responsible for their deaths. Kill me if you must, but let my rams take those heads to Kulkarvek to spare innocent lives. And if you value your own lives, stay far away from the king. I don't know his secrets, but he has lived for generations and fears nothing, as if knowing nothing can harm him. I wouldn't be surprised if nothing can, and if that's true, not even you and your dragons would stand a chance against him."

Firesword stared helplessly at Grintuk's sire, both he and Varhog now understanding the terrible reason behind the attack and facing a similar unsolvable quandary. Innocent men were dead, and their bereaved families would not be allowed even the small measure of comfort of seeing their faces one last time if they let the rams get away with the heads. But many more lives—the lives of innocent women and children that had not yet ended—would be lost if they insisted on recovering the heads.

Firesword confessed, _Varhog, I would have done the same._ _If someone threatened to kill Arya, and especially if our baby was already born, I would stop at nothing to prevent it. This ram might have dozens of lives hanging in the balance, the dearest people to him. What are we to do? The townspeople in Carvahall will be understandably furious if_ we _return empty-handed, but those men have already died. There's nothing we can do for them now, but we can spare innocent lives by allowing the rams from Anghelm to go with their grisly ransom._

 _I would have also done as Grintuk's sire,_ Varhog admitted. _We must already assume responsibility for the ten meaningless deaths in Carvahall, but we have the opportunity to prevent dozens more from taking place. We will face the humans' wrath, but it seems obvious that we must let those rams return._

Firesword nodded and spoke again while Varhog continued to translate. "Was there any provocation for this appalling command? We cannot allow anything like this to happen again."

Grintuk's sire explained, "The king saw the dragons flying over Anghelm, presumably to hunt. They did nothing to trouble the city, but it was enough to anger the king. It doesn't take much."

Firesword shook his head. "He _saw_ our dragons? Inconceivable. He sounds like a madman. Return home to your family. . . . I don't even know your name."

"Grintuk."

"Grintuk," Firesword repeated. "Our dragons will not provoke the king again. You will see your son later this summer for the next Choosing Ceremony, unless we decide that holding it would be too dangerous, for a dragon and Rider would necessarily be in Anghelm."

"My son is not in danger from the king," Grintuk Sr. answered. "You are right that Kulkarvek is insane, and his reasoning therefore makes no sense to anyone but him, but he would be more insulted by a choice to cancel the Ceremony—or worse, move it to a location such as the Bolvek village—because the Urgal Dragon Riders are afraid of him than he would be upset by having an Urgal Dragon Rider in the city."

Firesword shook his head again. "Yes, you're right that such thinking doesn't make sense, but we will trust your judgement. If you feel Grintuk would be safe to return, we'll go forward with the Ceremony as planned. Will the king learn of this conversation? Is your life in jeopardy?"

"I don't know," Grintuk Sr. said. "Perhaps, but as long as my family is safe, I don't care what happens to me. No one openly defies the king, but he seems aware enough of those who disagree with him. I imagine one day we'll all be in grave danger, but until then, it won't be any different than it always has."

Firesword nodded. "If I asked you to deliver a message to King Kulkarvek, would you?"

"Yes."

"Tell him we will not tolerate measures such as these again. If he has a problem with the Dragon Riders, especially me, let him take it up with me, or we will confront him and put an end to this."

Grintuk Sr. promised, "I will, Firesword. I'm sorry to leave you in such a difficult position."

"It's not the first time, nor will it be the last. And it's no worse than the position you were forced into. Goodbye, Grintuk."

Grintuk Sr. bashed his fists to his forehead before loping off into the dark trees.

Firesword glanced at Varhog. "Let's get back to the others. I don't know how I'm going to tell Roran and the villagers. They won't care as much about nameless, faceless Urgal women and children as about their own beloved husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. I once felt the same, but no longer. We Dragon Riders now have representatives from every race, and we therefore have an obligation to help everyone equally. I have come to know the Urgralgra better than ever before, and I kept thinking of your mother, siblings, nieces, and nephews. Baby Varhog. I couldn't imagine being responsible for a ruthless tyrant entering their homes and slaughtering them all just because I insisted on taking ten heads back to bodies that will remain dead regardless. We had to do what we did to spare those innocents."

Varhog reached out, placing a hand on Firesword's shoulder. "You did the right thing, which isn't always the easiest. We will deal with the anger of the townspeople as we must."

-:-:-

Varhog and Eragon flew back to Carvahall and found Roran, Arya, and Willow waiting in the castle with a large group of townsfolk. They immediately congregated on the two male Riders as they entered, asking questions and demanding to know where the heads were.

"We'll explain," Eragon patiently reassured. "Please quiet down." Once the room was sufficiently silent, Eragon thoroughly recounted all he and Varhog had learned on their excursion, knowing the townsfolk would simply insist on the details if he tried to gloss over them.

The silence remained as he concluded his account, but not for long. "I want the head of my son!" an angry elderly man yelled. "I couldn't care less about some good-for-nothing Urgal women and children dying. They deserve as much."

Arya sorrowfully looked over at Eragon, and Willow lowered her face as tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry this is so difficult," Eragon said. "There was no easy solution. We mourn with you over the unnecessary loss of life that occurred today. We regret that we were unable to do anything to prevent the situation before your loved ones were killed. We feel the full weight of that responsibility, I assure you. But I would not be responsible for the deaths of countless more innocents when I had an opportunity to prevent them. Please try to understand the motivation for the attack. If Galbatorix himself had come to this village and threatened to slaughter all of your wives, children, and grandchildren unless you killed ten Urgals, would any of you men have hesitated to fulfill his vicious command? This Kulkarvek appears to be just that sort of dictator. Our obligation as Dragon Riders now extends to every race, and we still had the ability to protect those Urgal women and children. We had to consider both sides of the equation, which is hard to remember in a situation where lives are so needlessly ended."

"But you didn't even protect us and you're right here!" another villager shouted.

"For which I couldn't be sorrier," Eragon replied. "The ambush occurred without warning and was over within minutes. The commander of the Kull warriors waited until he would inflict minimal damage and stopped attacking just as soon as they had fulfilled the requirement placed on them by their king. Some under his command would have preferred to storm the city and slaughter anything that moved, including _your_ wives and children. I'm not grateful about what happened, but I am grateful that so few were killed when it could have been so much worse. Half of the dead are Urgal warriors who fell defending your loved ones. I know some of you will never understand where I'm coming from and I apologize again from the bottom of my heart, but we will not be recovering the heads of the men and Urgals who died today."

"This is the dragons' fault!" someone hysterically screamed. "They brought this tragedy to our doorstep!"

Eragon compassionately responded, "I understand why you feel that way, but all they did was fly over Anghelm, which is as well-hidden as any Urgal town or village. I implore you to place blame where it is deserved. This tragedy is the result of a madman's delusional, vengeful edicts. We are doing all we can to uncover the mystery behind Kulkarvek, but in the meantime, two of the dragons will leave tomorrow with their Riders, Willow and Varhog. Saphira and Fírnen will remain with myself and my wife and fortify the defensive measures surrounding Carvahall for the remainder of our stay. Now, is there anything we can do to assist the bereaved families during this time of loss? Our resources are at your disposal."

The discussion dissolved into groups of muttering townspeople. Some, including Roran, approached Eragon and Arya to make plans for funeral services and offering succor to the grieving families. Most avoided Varhog, who had withdrawn to a stand beside Willow. Everyone eventually left.

When only the Riders and Roran remained, Eragon sank into an armchair, wearily rubbing his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Roran. It was over before I even got there. Eight were already dead by the time Varhog arrived, the last two Urgals killed right in front of his eyes. The Kull all left exactly at that moment. I intended to bring back the heads but just couldn't when I understood the price."

"You did what you thought best," Roran dully responded. "The townspeople will be less tolerant than ever that we're supporting Urgal soldiers after this. Some will argue it wouldn't have happened if they weren't here, since the humans wouldn't have left the city to deliver supplies."

"Do _you_ believe that?" Eragon pressed. "Humans would have eventually left the city anyway, but I believe those Kull warriors would have simply entered and begun killing men, women, and children if they'd had to wait much longer. Maybe Katrina. Maybe the new baby. The castle is the closest building to the gates. You and I both did things just as cruel during the war. I'm sure you'll never forget the innocent men you killed in your fervor to rescue Katrina, but that was what drove you, just as it motivated those Kull. The humans were the key, Roran, otherwise they would have probably just killed ten 'traitor' Urgals and left. This isn't a conflict between humans and Urgals, it's between both races and an insane king, exactly as it was when we were fighting Galbatorix. I would suggest you do your best to talk the townspeople into allowing the Urgals to stay. I have no doubt that the citizens of Carvahall would fight valiantly in the face of any attack, but so many would die—so many more—without the Urgals' help. Standing against a Kull is all but impossible unless we're talking about highly trained warriors, and last time I checked, Carvahall doesn't exactly have a formidable military force. Even if we asked Nasuada to send some of her army, they wouldn't be able to defend as well against attacking Kull warriors as trained Urgal rams."

"I know," Roran muttered in frustration. "Sometimes I hate the responsibility that goes along with leadership. I'll do my best, Eragon. But why haven't you simply gone to confront this mad king? Is he really such a great threat that he could overcome all of the Dragon Riders? To give into his brutality like that—with little more than a slap on the hand and warning delivered by messenger—just seems cowardly."

"You too?" Eragon wondered. "Really, Roran? I thought you of all the people would understand—or at least _try_ to understand—my motives. To violently recover those ten heads—five actually, when you consider that we really were only doing it for the townspeople of Carvahall—without consideration for the further loss of life that would have followed simply to maintain the favor of a handful of mourning families, seems cowardly to me. Or to lie to the people about what happened and tell them what they wanted to hear just to save face. _Those_ courses of action strike me as cowardly. Showing compassion and being honest seem the far harder course, but they have never served me wrong before."

Eragon sighed and continued, "As for confronting Kulkarvek, we will eventually have to. But two who are familiar enough with his past as to be credible have advised us to keep our distance until we have a deeper understanding of why Kulkarvek is so old. These two—Garzhvog and Grintuk's sire—have both hinted that there might be something magical at work, something that would make the king very dangerous and difficult to kill, even for a Dragon Rider, which coincides with the warning given by the Eldunarí over a decade ago. I'm not afraid of this king, but I also have no desire to blindly walk to my death, nor to lead any of the other Riders and their dragons to the same. I hope Grintuk will be able to learn more at the Choosing Ceremony later this summer.

"But if the villagers of Carvahall have lost all faith in the Dragon Riders because I didn't insist on gaining the upper hand in this power play, so be it. As long as they continue to respect you and defer to Nasuada enough that you can maintain order, all is not lost. We will continue to help them—and everyone else—regardless of whether or not we have their undying support."

"Sorry, Eragon," Roran apologized. "So what are your plans?"

"We can leave if you think it best," Eragon offered. "Varhog and Willow are already planning to, and they'll take the fallen Urgals with them back to the Bolvek village. I think Saphira and Fírnen would add immeasurably to the protective measures around the city, but I know not everyone will agree."

"Where were they during the attack?"

"In the forest," Eragon said. "On the other side of the city. Minutes, Roran. It was over in minutes. They would have barely been able to take flight and land before those Kull warriors were done. Maybe they would have killed some of the attackers, but it wouldn't have changed the outcome of ten dead. And as far as I'm aware, death by beheading is not a procedure that can be magically reversed."

"I understand," Roran said. "Before you make plans to immediately depart, let me see if I can reason with the townspeople. I don't want you to cut your visit short on account of this."

"Should we scry my uncle?" Varhog asked from where he was standing. "Would you like to converse with him, Stronghammer?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Roran agreed. "When will you leave?"

"In the morning. If you don't object, I'd like to contact my uncle now so I can get Willow fed and to bed. The healing magic she performed was very draining."

"Yes. Thank you for healing Nolfavrell."

"I'm glad there were some we could still help," Varhog said. "Is Birgit recovering?"

"She is," Roran confirmed. "She's a strong one. Always has been. All of the women of Carvahall are strong, but losing her son might have been enough to ruin her. Nolfavrell's second child is due to be born any day."

"That would have been awful. Shall we move to your study for this scrying session?"

Roran nodded and stood. The men retired to Roran's study while Arya and Willow headed to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.

-:-:-

Varhog and Willow left the following morning just as they promised. After speaking with Nar Garzhvog, all of the defending Urgals remained in Carvahall except Raygog—who was weakened from his extensive blood loss—since the Riders had healed them. Each of the five dead Urgals was wrapped in cloth and carefully bundled together so Black Thunder could carry the load in his talons. Raygog rode on his back while Willow and Varhog flew with Sunset. The mood on the flight back to the Bolvek village was far different than it had been when the three had left it months earlier.

After flying in silence for some time, Willow looked across the distance separating them from Raygog and said to Varhog, _Look at Raygog._ His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched, and he tightly clenched Black Thunder's lowest neck spike.

Varhog glanced over. _He's having a really hard time. Not only did he know those five, some were his close friends. On top of that, he feels like he failed in his duty to protect Carvahall. Five innocent, unarmed humans were killed. He didn't gain any glory from that fighting yesterday, only disgrace, since he didn't defeat any of those Kull. He is most likely concerned that our uncle will be ashamed. And he had his arm cut off and nearly bled to death, so he's weak and tired._

 _I wish there was a way I could help him._

Varhog scoffed in disbelief. _Does saving his life not qualify?_

 _You know what I mean,_ Willow said with no hint of humor. _Do you suppose Nar Garzhvog was at all influenced in deciding Raygog would return? Could your mother have had anything to do with it? While we were in Carvahall, I told Arya what mother said about her and Garzhvog. Arya shared with me some observations she made during the discussion the others had with him about Kulkarvek while we were on our honeymoon. No one else but Arya seemed to notice the subtle nuances, but she was convinced there are some deep underlying feelings._

 _I suppose it's possible,_ Varhog agreed. _I wish there was something_ I _could do to help_ you, _Eartheyes. It breaks my heart to feel how melancholy you are._

Willow decided to keep her other suspicion—that Garzhvog's daughter might also have played a part in Raygog's return—to herself. In response to Varhog's remark, she said, _In time I'll be fine, Varhog. No matter how many times I've witnessed it, death continues to have the same effect on me. It always seems so hopeless and pointless. Those ten who died all had families. People who loved them. People they loved. Now they're gone. It's awful. I shudder to think of the mothers who must receive their sons' headless bodies and lay them in the cold hard ground. I can't even imagine it._

Willow was sitting in front of Varhog, bundled in many layers of warm clothing and blankets. But she moved them all enough to turn and wrap herself around him. He pulled the warm layers back around her and encircled her in his arms as she began to weep. _Tighter, Varhog. Hold me tighter so I don't break apart._

-:-:-

Willow's desperate sadness brought Varhog's to the surface. He had been more stoic—as rams were taught to be—in his reaction to the tragedy in Carvahall, but Willow's tender concern swept it all away. Tears squeezed out of his closed eyes as he tightened his arms around Willow, resting his face on her hair. He began to sing to her, and her choking sobs slowly subsided until she was still and quiet.

 _Thank you, Varhog._ _I didn't think anything would be able to help me right now, but I should have known you would come up with something. Your beautiful voice had just the same effect that my father's always did whenever I felt such crushing grief as a child. Let's keep your promise to the children and play with them tomorrow. Maybe that will remind us of the goodness still in the world and why we need to keep fighting. I know we can't eliminate all of the threats the children face, but we need to do our best if they're to have a chance._

 _Yes, Eartheyes. Especially our children. And I'll always do all I can to protect you and them._

Willow pulled back to look up at him. _I know. I'm so grateful._

He kissed her forehead, and the rest of the flight passed uneventfully.

-:-:-

They arrived in Varhog's village after dark, though it wasn't late at night. In spite of the darkness, almost all of the villagers waited for them in the square as Sunset landed. Black Thunder didn't follow until Varhog had dismounted and was able to help with the dragon's cargo. Varhog directed all of the villagers to move back since Black Thunder would have to continue back-flapping near the ground to avoid crushing the bodies of the fallen warriors. The dragon did his best to land carefully, but he was exhausted from the long journey, made so quickly with the weight of six Urgralgra rams to bear.

Before long Black Thunder was on the ground, and Raygog stiffly dismounted. Myrintuk rushed forward to enfold her son in her arms. Nar Garzhvog also approached and briefly conversed with Varhog. The war chief addressed Raygog and asked the names of those who had fallen. Raygog quietly rehearsed them, and Garzhvog repeated them slightly louder so the crowd would hear.

Willow steeled herself as the first wails of anguish rent the night air. Five anxious mothers who had hoped this night would not bring the most feared tidings they could imagine now had their worst nightmares confirmed. The women and their children—and mates, if they had one—stumbled forward toward the dragons and small gathering between them.

"I couldn't bring myself to tell them their sons had been beheaded," Garzhvog muttered in an undertone. "I didn't know how. Now I fear I should have, no matter how difficult. Did you somehow mark the bodies so we could identify them?"

"I can tell you, uncle," Raygog dully said. As Garzhvog unwrapped each body, Raygog identified it in a lifeless tone. The wails of anguish intensified as the horrifying reality of their sons' and brothers' deaths fell upon the bereaved families.

"I can't bear this, Varhog," Willow softly murmured. "Can we please go home?"

Garzhvog heard her words. "Yes, go and rest. Thank you for your efforts in attending to my fighting rams. If not for you, even more families would have faced this misfortune tonight."

Myrintuk displayed her agreement by tightly hugging Willow. "Thank you, daughter, for saving my son and bringing him safely home."

"I'm just grateful I could, mother."

Before they could leave, Nayvek rushed forward. "Is Pultog well?"

"He was wounded, but I healed him and he's fine," Varhog kindly answered.

"Thank you," Nayvek earnestly said. "Will he have to stay much longer, Nar Garzhvog?"

"He will, Nayvek," Garzhvog confirmed. "And I'll need to send even more rams. Until this situation with the king is more secure, he'll stay there at least until the summer."

Nayvek nodded in despair and backed away. No one would dare question or defy the war chief.

Varhog lifted Willow in his arms and turned to go. "Good night."

"The funerals will be tomorrow morning," Garzhvog informed.

"And we're holding a family dinner to welcome you and Willow home," Myrintuk added. "We're planning on late afternoon."

"Thank you, mother," Varhog said. "Good night." As he headed into the trees toward their hut, he asked Willow, "Do you still want to play with our nieces and nephews tomorrow?"

"Yes," Willow firmly said. "More than ever. It will help cheer them up after the dismal affair of the funeral and tire them out enough for a good nap before this family gathering."

When they arrived at their hut, they quickly ate and prepared to get in bed, which Willow was looking forward to since it was big enough for Varhog. She fell asleep as soon as Varhog pulled the blankets over her, and he held her to keep her warm until he felt tired some hours later.


	10. Snow Play

10\. Snow Play

The funeral was torturous for Willow. She wished she never had to attend another funeral again and found herself hoping there would soon be another wedding or birth to brighten the grieving faces of Varhog's family.

After the affair was over, she and Varhog made their way around to each of his siblings and asked if they could play with the children in the snow. All of his siblings with cubs two and older agreed, and all of the children were at the funeral with their mothers and fathers, so they were already bundled in their warmest winter clothing. Yarbog informed them that he had a sled at his hut if they wanted to stop for it on their way to the forest.

Willow and Varhog retrieved the sled and trekked with their nine nieces and nephews over the age of two toward an edge of the village where the snow was relatively undisturbed. Varhog pulled three of the younger ones along behind him on the sled. One of his nieces was riding on his shoulders, and he had young Tarhvek in his free arm.

Though she was still somber from the sad events of the previous few days, Willow smiled at the humorous sight. "You look like quite the beast of burden, sweetheart. And your burden is children. You're currently carrying or pulling five of the nine."

Varhog grinned, clearly grateful that this activity was already serving to lighten their moods, just as they had hoped. "Nothing could make me happier," he replied. Yarbog's three sons were running up ahead with their oldest female cousin, Myrek, who was Myrin's oldest daughter. Yarbog's two-year-old daughter was on the sled. Myrin's four-year-old daughter Rinna was on Varhog's shoulders. Naynuk's son and daughter, who were four and two, were also on the sled. The babies and Bruntog's small toddler son weren't with them since the snow was too deep.

Suddenly a snowball pelted Varhog in the chest. Young Yarbog laughed, knowing there was nothing his uncle could do to retaliate at the moment. "Don't worry, Yarbog," Varhog chuckled. "Before long I'll be able to get you back, so you'd better take advantage of this time while my hands are busy." It was an invitation for the four oldest to let loose, and they did, but none of their snowballs ever made contact with Varhog's face or the children he was carrying.

"Do you have a ward over your face?" Willow asked when a perfectly aimed snowball skimmed off to one side. Varhog winked at her, and she smiled again. "That's cheating," Willow said in amusement.

"Only until I can defend myself," Varhog promised. They finally reached the desired area, and Varhog handed young Tarhvek to Willow. He then lifted Rinna carefully off his shoulders and set her down. She joined the others, as did the four-year-old boy who had been on the sled. It was six against one, but Varhog was more than able to handle himself. He let every snowball hit him, though he could have dodged them with his Rider reflexes. He got in some good shots himself, but he wasn't making his snowballs nearly as big nor throwing them as hard as he could have. And he never aimed for their faces, though he removed his ward and let the children's hit his as often as their aim was true.

Varhog brushed the snow off after one of Yarbog's balls pelted him in the nose, growling playfully and dashing after the boy, who fled with a delighted shriek. Varhog easily caught him and swung him up into a nearby tree, setting him on a low branch. "Shall I leave you here for that?" he teased.

"No, uncle!" the boy pleaded between fits of giggling and gasps for air. Varhog carefully let him down to the ground. Yarbog jumped and wrapped his arms around Varhog's chest, so Varhog tumbled slowly to the ground as if the tackle had been enough to take him down. The other children squealed and congregated on him. Varhog wrestled around with them, taking care not to let any of their faces get pushed in the snow.

Varhog's playful growls and the children's laughter cheered Willow even more. She was kneeling on the ground next to the three two-year-olds, who were sitting on the sled so they wouldn't sink too deeply into the snow. She had been forming small snowballs for them so they would feel a part of the older children's game, and they tossed them as far as they could, which wasn't far. Willow gently encouraged their determined efforts.

Varhog suddenly staggered up with all six of the children attached to him somehow. Two were dangling from his horns, one was grasping around his shoulders, one hung from each arm, and the smallest was clinging to one of his legs. The weight of all the children was nothing to him, and Varhog roared loudly, but not in a mean way, carefully stomping about as if trying to dislodge them. Willow laughed softly at the sight. Finally he sank to his knees as if they had subdued him once more, bowing his head in defeat. The children cheered and released him, raising their hands up and dancing about triumphantly. Varhog grabbed the nearest two and began tickling them. They screeched in surprise, and the other children swiftly came to their rescue by resuming their attack.

Varhog's laughter was loud and joyous as he played with the children, and his energy never seemed to diminish. He chased them all about and pulled them on many long sled rides, running as fast as was safe with no noticeable exertion. Then he took them up a nearby hill, dragging them back up after each run down the gentle slope. Since Varhog was warm enough from his exercise, he had traded his cloak for the sled as a sitting area for the smallest children, and Willow built a small snowman for them.

While thus engaged, Willow noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes near the border of the forest. She turned to look more closely and saw Steel and Boldclaw, along with several of the others wolves, hanging back behind the edge of the trees.

"Look, children!" she breathed, gathering them close and pointing toward the wolves. "See those beautiful wolves?" The children gasped in fear. "No, no, it's all right," Willow soothed. "They're my friends. Wait here so I can go to them." She left the children in a clump and approached the wolves.

Steel and Boldclaw moved slightly away from the others, and Steel greeted Willow by pressing his great head right into her sternum. She hugged him. "Hello, Steel. Are you well?" He moved his head back, looking at her solemnly with his yellow eyes. "Your eyes are just like my mate's. Maybe that's why I can understand you so well. Oh hello, Boldclaw," she said to the black wolf, who had nudged Willow's hand with her snout. "I'm playing with my nieces and nephews right now, but they fear you. Are you just here to watch us?"

Willow thought Steel looked disappointed, so she amended, "Do you wish to join me?" His tongue lolled out in what looked like a grin, and Willow laughed. "Truly? Well, let me speak with my mate so he can communicate with the children that you aren't a danger. I don't speak their language, and I worry they won't understand unless addressed in their native tongue. Please wait here a moment." Willow patted them each before returning to the children, who were watching her with wide eyes.

Varhog had been off with the older six, but he had returned and was slowly approaching. The children who were with him looked equally as fearful as the younger three. Willow ran to him and grasped his free hand. "Hello, Varhog," she said breathlessly. "Some of the wolves have come and they wish to join in the play, but the children are afraid. How do you feel about this? I'm sure they would leave if you felt it unwise."

"Do _you_ feel it unwise, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked. "You understand them better. I need to be very sure they mean the children no harm. If you trust their intentions, I would allow it."

"I'll double check," Willow said and ran back to the wolves. "Steel," she said. "Are you the alpha?" His eyes conveyed his confirmation. "My mate and I are responsible for these cubs right now. We must be sure they'll come to no harm if you play with us. You're huge and powerful. They're small and fragile. Can you somehow promise?" Steel lifted a great paw and held it up until Willow grasped it in both of her hands. He blinked very slowly, clearly vowing that the children would come to no harm. "Do the others agree?" she asked, and Steel blinked again. Willow smiled after he lowered his paw.

"Come along then," she invited. All of her communications had been in the ancient language, and she now advised, "I don't know how you play with your cubs, but you must never use your fangs or claws. Be slow and easy at first while they get used to you. Don't make loud growling or snarling noises. They're afraid of you." Steel was walking by her side, and he looked over at her then very pointedly away toward Varhog. When Steel faced her again, his eyes seemed to be reminding her that they regarded Varhog as a greater threat than they were to the children.

"I suppose that's true," Willow agreed. "He can be very dangerous when he wants to be." Steel seemed to have more to communicate, and he looked at Willow intently, but she didn't understand. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't know what you mean."

Suddenly a very strange thing happened. In her mind, Willow viewed a series of images, but they were all in muted tones of gray, brown, and white and seemed choppy somehow, as if the one who captured them didn't comprehend things on the same level as Willow. Her eyes widened when she identified them as Steel's memories of her and Varhog fighting the day after the encounter with the wolf pack, and Willow then understood that the wolves saw her as a dangerous fighter as well, since she had effortlessly dodged Varhog's repeated attacks, something they hadn't been able to do.

"That was amazing, Steel," Willow said slowly. "I didn't know you could communicate that way." They reached the children and Varhog. Though Varhog had explained in Urgralish that the wolves liked Willow and wanted to play with them, they couldn't ignore their instincts—which had been reinforced by frequent warnings from their parents—that these huge beasts were deadly predators and they were prey.

Willow knelt down in the snow a few feet away from the children, and Steel and Boldclaw laid down on either side of her. The other three wolves, who had been trailing behind, did the same. Among them were the all-white and brown-furred wolves that Willow had healed after Boldclaw. Willow stroked the wolves beside her, explaining to the children, "These wolves are my friends. We met them a few months ago and they meant to eat me for dinner! Even though he didn't want to, Uncle Varhog had to hurt them to protect me. Some of them almost died, but we were able to heal all of their injuries, and they were grateful. They've never attacked again, and now they want to play with us. But if you're too frightened, I understand, and so do they."

Willow stopped and waited patiently, still petting the wolves. They kept their heads down but stared at the children with hopeful eyes, looking innocent and harmless.

Young Yarbog seemed to sense that someone needed to take the lead, so he bravely approached the wolves. When he was in front of her, he gingerly held his hand out to Boldclaw, waiting for her to accept him before touching her. She stretched her nose toward him and licked his glove. Yarbog laughed and shuffled a little closer so he could scratch between her ears. Boldclaw laid her head back on the snow and let him continue, not moving or making any noise that might startle him.

The other children tentatively made their way forward. Varhog held two of the youngest in his arms. Young Tarhvek was the third two-year-old, and he stumbled into Willow's lap, having difficulty in the deep snow with his short legs. The older children followed Yarbog's example, letting the wolves lick them before stroking their thick fur.

"Do you see the white one?" Willow asked Myrek, and the girl nodded admiringly. "Somehow she knew I was expecting."

Myrek placed a hand over Willow's small tummy. "Your babies are growing, Aunt Willow. Mother said your belly will be even bigger than hers before baby Varhog was born."

Willow smiled. "Yes, that's right. I'll have a great, round belly by the time these two babies are born. I hope it can stretch that much!" Myrek's high giggle filled the air.

Steel suddenly nudged Willow's hand, and she looked over at him. He licked Myrek's hand then reached his head around and touched his nose down to his back. "Do you mean to offer them a ride?" Willow guessed, and Steel blinked his acknowledgement. "Very well. I'll see if any are brave enough to accept." She addressed the children, who were murmuring softly as they became more accustomed to the wolves. "Children, the wolves are willing to give you rides on their backs if you think that would be fun. Does anyone want to try?"

Myrek raised her hand. "I do!" she cried. "Can I ride the white one? Does she have a name?"

"Not that I know of," Willow answered. "The only two I've named are Steel and Boldclaw, these two on either side of me. I could ask her if she'd like a name from us."

Willow looked over at the white wolf. "Hello, my friend," she said warmly. The wolf, who was laying next to Boldclaw, raised her head in greeting. "My niece wonders if she can give you a name. Perhaps you already have one, but we have no way of knowing it. Would that be all right with you?"

The white wolf licked Myrek's gloved hand, since the small girl had scooted over in front of the great animal. Myrek said, "May I call you Snowpaw?" Willow repeated her request in the ancient language, and the wolf licked Myrek's hand again, followed by her small cheek. Myrek giggled and wiped her face.

Then Snowpaw pressed her paw more deeply into the snow and looked at Myrek shrewdly, clearly understanding how fitting the name was.

"Yes, that's just what I thought!" Myrek exclaimed, and since the two seemed perfectly able to understand one another, Willow felt no need to translate. "May I ride you, Snowpaw?" Myrek begged, throwing her small arms as far around the wolf's neck as she could reach.

Snowpaw lowered her head, flattening herself to the ground, so Myrek scrambled around and straddled the wolf over her front shoulders, holding on around her neck. "I'm ready!" she cried.

Snowpaw carefully stood up, and Myrek proudly exclaimed, "I'm the first Urgal Wolf Rider, Uncle Varhog! See me?" Varhog laughed and approached the white wolf, reaching out one hand to make sure his niece would remain steady where she was almost five feet above the ground. But Myrek was tightly gripping the wolf with her arms and legs. "I'm all right," she reassured her uncle. "Let's go!" she urged Snowpaw eagerly, and the wolf began to pad slowly around the clearing.

Seeing the joy of their cousin, the other children now eagerly indicated their desire for a turn. Yarbog and his two-year-old sister climbed onto Steel's back. Their other two brothers rode the brown male. Rinna and young Tarhvek got aboard Boldclaw, and Naynuk's boy and girl rode the last wolf, who had the same coloring as Steel—gray with a white underside. After giving Yarbog a firm but kind reminder to hold tightly to his sister, Varhog walked next to the last wolf to steady the youngsters, while Willow did the same next to Boldclaw.

The children were thrilled by the experience, and the wolves seemed equally pleased. As Willow observed the five huge wolves carrying nine children around on their backs like they were ponies, an incredulous laugh escaped her mouth. Varhog looked at her, his eyes full of admiration at her ability to orchestrate such an unlikely scenario. The children also warmed up considerably while riding the wolves, who kept them out of the snow and shared warmth from their thick fur.

By the time Willow and Varhog suggested they end the rides, Snowpaw was dashing about at Myrek's bidding, and the girl exclaimed joyously with each burst of speed, holding tightly around the wolf's neck. When Snowpaw noticed the other wolves crouching down so the children could get off, she walked over to join them. Myrek reluctantly dismounted and moved around to give her a tight embrace. "Thank you, Snowpaw," she breathed. "That was so much fun!" When Myrek drew back, the wolf licked her cheek again, her eyes loving and gentle.

Willow repeated the thanks in the ancient language for all the wolves. She and Varhog had been out for hours with the children, and Willow knew they must be tired and hungry. Thankfully, they were now warm enough to make the trek back home without undue misery. Willow carried young Tarhvek, who rested his head on her shoulder in exhaustion. He stroked her chest, probably wishing it could give him the warm milk his mother's could. Willow hugged him tightly and tears came to her eyes as she thought about her own babies.

Willow had felt the same emotions while watching Varhog play with the children as the first time, though this session had been so much longer and had given her even greater insight into his character. He had patiently soothed angry words and aggressive actions, never raised his voice, and comforted small hurts with hugs and gentle kisses.

Varhog was more burdened by children than before. All of the children were exhausted, even the older ones, and they now sat on the sled, holding younger siblings or cousins in their laps. He had a child on his shoulders and one in his arm again. Willow wished she could help more, but she could tell he wasn't at all tired, and he seemed happy.

Varhog felt her gaze and looked at her. _At least we've already made a couple of our own this time,_ Willow joked. _Now I can just look at you with the anticipation of seeing you as a father. You're so amazing, Varhog._

Varhog smiled. _You're the amazing one, Eartheyes. What happened with the wolves was totally unprecedented. My brothers and sisters might never let me take their children again._

Their first stop was Naynuk's hut. Her son was on Varhog's shoulders and her daughter in his arms, so he dropped the rope attached to the sled and approached the door. Naynuk answered with her small baby in her arms. She called for her mate, who came to take the sleeping girl from Varhog's arms so Varhog could lift the boy down from his shoulders. He gave his nephew a hug before setting him down and said to his sister, "If they talk about wolves, they're telling the truth. We'll tell you about it later, but they were perfectly safe, I promise. I need to get these others home. They're all as tired as your little ones." Varhog embraced his sister, and she waved at Willow.

They stopped next at Yarbog's and Kiengah's. Yarbog answered and retrieved his two youngest from the sled. Young Yarbog had been holding his sleeping sister, and the four-year-old boy was also dozing. The older two arose wearily and dragged themselves into the hut. Varhog said something similar about the wolves, and Yarbog raised his eyebrows. Then he nodded at Willow and went back inside.

They stopped at Myrin's last on purpose, hoping they might have the chance to stay and visit. Young Tarhvek was now asleep in Willow's arms. After leaving the sled at Yarbog's, Varhog had carried the sisters home, and they too were sleeping soundly.

Willow noticed and said, "That's so precious, it almost makes me hope ours are daughters."

"I'm thinking the same thing as I see young Tarhvek in your arms, only that they're sons," Varhog returned. "You said, 'almost makes me hope.' Have you hoped before they'd be sons?"

"Yes, Yelloweyes. If there were two more males in this world who grew up to be like you, it would only mean good things for everyone in the land. You're the most amazing male I've ever met."

"That's not saying much, considering how few you've really probably met," Varhog teased modestly.

"Nonsense!" Willow objected. "The high queen herself saw something in you that she hasn't seen in anyone else, and think how many men _she_ knows, fighting with and leading them for so many years. I'll never forget how she examined you the first time she saw you, especially how mortified she was afterwards."

Varhog smiled. "Well, if these first two are sons then the next two must be daughters, for what you say is true of you as well, Willow. This world needs _many_ more women like you. I've never met anyone else with your ability of overcoming differences, bridging intractable gaps, and bringing together in friendship people or creatures with deep enmity and prejudices. It's still unbelievable, though I've witnessed it so many times."

"I love hearing you speak about the next ones," Willow admitted with a loving smile. "I hope we have a large family, Varhog. You'll be an amazing father. But have you ever wondered what will become of our children?"

"What do you mean?" Varhog asked in confusion.

"I mean, our immortality isn't inheritable, right? We only have it as Dragon Riders. Will they not one day grow old and pass away while we remain young and strong?"

Varhog looked stricken, as if this was the first time he had ever considered it. "I . . . I don't know, Willow. I'd never even thought about that dismal possibility, but it seems the most likely future. How awful to even think about it. Let's not dwell on it."

Willow nodded, more somber than before as her thoughts returned to death. They arrived at Myrin's, and Willow knocked since Varhog's hands were full. Tarhvek answered and grinned as he observed his three children sleeping peacefully in their arms. "You two are miracle-workers," he joked, stepping aside so they could enter. "We're never able to get them all down for a nap at the same time anymore. Myrin is tired too. She just laid down with young Varhog, but I know she wants to see you. You'll be coming to the dinner later this afternoon, won't you?"

"Of course," Varhog said. "Shall we lay them down somewhere? Maybe you can also get some rest. I'm sure Myrin is keeping you just as busy, day and night."

"Aye, but she rewards me well. I don't resent it, but I'm not so foolish as to pass up an opportunity like this. Come, lay them on the bed, and we'll all rest together." He led them back to the main bedroom. Willow noticed other doors farther back that her and Varhog's hut didn't have. Tarhvek helped Varhog with the girls while Willow went around to the side Myrin was closer to and laid the little boy down next to his mother's back. He didn't stir.

Tarhvek sat down cradling Rinna in his arms so she would stay asleep, and he waved goodbye as Willow and Varhog left. Willow was touched by the sight of the family snuggled together for a midday nap.

They quietly let themselves out and walked hand in hand back to their hut. Willow soon moved closer to him and put her arm around his waist so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "Wouldn't it be lovely if we could visit our hot spring tonight?" she said. "It would feel so relaxing to get in that hot water, but I'm worried about the babies now."

"I'll take you back sometime, Eartheyes," Varhog promised. "You're cold and tired, aren't you?"

Willow nodded, so Varhog picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.

"Thank you, Varhog," Willow said with a weary smile as she leaned her face into him. "I don't see how you're not. You played so tirelessly all morning, tromping around in the deep snow, running uphill. You're like a machine."

"I need to use my muscles for some good every now and then," Varhog said dismissively. "For the most part they just sit around and do nothing noteworthy. Even so, I'm sure I'd welcome an afternoon nap when we get home, if that's what you want. Especially after our long flight yesterday."

"That sounds nice," Willow agreed. "I'm starting to feel more of a drain from the demands of pregnancy. I'm over two months along now."

"That's wonderful, Eartheyes. I'm sure your fatigue will only increase as the babies grow. I'll remember your increased need for rest."

Willow smiled, and as she thought back to Tarhvek's and Myrin's hut, she commented, "I noticed that there seemed to be extra rooms in their hut that we don't have in ours. Do all of the huts start out smaller?"

"Yes, for the most part," Varhog replied. "The eligible ram builds his hut so that it's big enough for himself and a future mate. The bed is big enough for several children, so extra rooms might not be added for some years even after the children start to come. But we build them in such a way that adding more rooms is easy to accomplish."

"Do the children share the bed with their parents for long?" Willow wondered.

"Aye, for several years at least," Varhog answered. "The mother sometimes keeps a small mattress on the floor nearby for laying her baby on if she wants to have more space on the bed with her mate, but the children sleep with their parents until they want to leave, and that's often not until age three, if not older. Even if the child gets his own bed around that age, there's still an open door policy, and he can go into his parent's room at any time during the night or day. I remember occasionally sleeping next to mother, even up until I was ten."

"How lovely," Willow said. "And I imagine this doesn't interfere with the couple's intimacy, knowing how important that is in this culture."

"Not from what I know. The children either sleep through it or wake up and notice, but it's not a shameful thing. The couple would probably just tell them they were sharing their love in a special way—if the child was awake long enough to ask—then invite the child to go back to sleep or return to their bed. I don't specifically recall ever witnessing my parents thus engaged, but perhaps in my innocence I just didn't realize. I remember waking up to see mother snuggled in my sire's arms, but it never seemed out of the ordinary, so I didn't give it much thought."

"I feel for your mother, Yelloweyes. That type of longing can be so desperate, and she loved your sire so much. It must be painful to have gone so many years without feeling that closeness and fulfillment."

"Aye," Varhog agreed. "It's rare for Urgals to take another mate if their first passes, but I don't understand why. If the circumstances were right, and a widow or widower came to care for another in the same way, it makes sense they would join for companionship and love. I can understand why the thought of Garzhvog seems strange to her, for as long as he was just her brother, but at the same time, she seems to have considered it enough to admit that she finds him attractive. Garzhvog's mate—my Aunt Yvenna—was Kull like he is, but my mother is considered a beauty among Urgralgra women. He too has most likely given it some thought."

When they reached their hut, Varhog asked, "Are you hungry, Eartheyes?"

"Lately I always seem to be," she answered. "But let's just eat something small and easy so we can get a nap. I'm sure there will be lots of food to fill me up at mother's later today."

They did so, then Willow went to the washroom to clean her mouth. Varhog joined her, asking if he could relieve himself in her presence.

"You always ask, Yelloweyes," she said. "It's always fine with me."

"Just want to be polite in case you ever change your mind," Varhog replied with a grin.

"You know how much I love that part of you," Willow reminded him, returning his smile and watching him pointedly until he shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry," she said with a laugh as she grabbed a brush and began raking it through her hair to work out the tangles.

As Varhog washed his hands and brushed his teeth, Willow announced, "Now _I'll_ go. Fine with you?"

"Of course," Varhog said. "I'm always looking for an excuse to peek at your belly." He grinned as she pulled her shirt up so he could get an even better look. "You're ten weeks along?" he then asked, running his fingers through his own hair as he regarded himself in the mirror.

"Mm-hmm," Willow replied.

"When will I get to feel them move?"

"I'm not sure," Willow said. "Maybe a few more weeks. Five or so. I'll have to ask Arya. She had begun to feel her baby before we left, but Eragon still hadn't. I'm not sure if it will be sooner for us since there are two." She finished her task and washed her hands. Varhog was leaning casually against the door, having remained simply to be with her.

Willow still had her shirt lifted, and she left her pants loose so her belly would be exposed. When she turned to Varhog, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her tummy. She was tall and thin, so her womb was still small, but she relaxed her abdominal muscles from her usual perfect posture so her belly would protrude in an exaggerated manner.

Varhog laughed, softly rubbing the small bump as it pressed into him. "It's so amazing," he said. "I've seen pregnant women so much of my life, but feeling this and knowing I helped create them with you makes it so different. I feel even more protective of you than before."

Willow closed her eyes, willing herself not to get distracted. "How about that nap?"

"Of course," Varhog said, fastening her pants and lowering her shirt as a sign that he too was trying to remain focused on their objective. "Thank you for inviting me to do that. It seems like I never get to enough."

"You can whenever you want," Willow offered, following him down the hall to their bedroom. She crawled onto the bed, removed her boots and socks, and tossed them to the floor.

"Shirt on or off?" Varhog asked, likewise pulling off his boots and socks.

"Better be on," Willow said. "Otherwise I'm sure to lose my focus."

Varhog grinned, leaving his shirt alone as he joined her on the bed.

Once they were both comfortable, Willow murmured, "I'm so glad we played with the children and got to see the wolves today. I feel so much better. It did help remind me of the goodness in the world, though it sometimes seems so dark and hopeless."

"Yes, Eartheyes. And you're part of the reason there is so much goodness in the world. Everywhere you turn, you spread friendship and cheer." Varhog sang her an Urgralish lullaby, the harsh tones of the language softened by the gentle arrangement. Before he was even finished, Willow was asleep, and Varhog kissed the top of her head before also drifting off.


	11. At Mother's

11\. At Mother's

After their nap, Willow and Varhog made their way back to the village so they would arrive early to the late-afternoon meal. The weak winter sun was already setting and thanks to the thick cover of trees, dusk was upon them.

They arrived at the same time as Nar Garzhvog, his twelve and fifteen-year-old sons, and Yvenna. Garzhvog's oldest two sons had mates and young families of their own. "Uncle," Varhog greeted him. Garzhvog raised his chin, bashing his fists to his forehead at Willow. She jumped then smiled.

"You're still war chief," she reminded him in exasperation.

"Aye, Nar Willow, but I'll always respect you for defeating me and for healing me when you could have left me to die. I'm grateful I can continue to be a sire to my cubs in the absence of their dam." His deep-set eyes were sad. His youngest son had only barely been born before Galbatorix had killed his mother.

Willow unexpectedly said, "Nar Garzhvog, Myrintuk mentioned that you had both considered joining to curb the loneliness of losing your mates. Is there a reason besides the memory of your first mates to keep you from doing such a thing? I don't mean to offend, only to understand your ways."

Garzhvog's expression was grave, and Willow guessed no one else would have dared ask him such a thing. His sons looked disapproving, and Yvenna's eyes were wide. Willow's heart fluttered anxiously that she might have been disrespectful. Garzhvog finally answered, "You are bold, Nar Willow. Such things aren't often discussed, but I am not offended. No, besides the memory of my mate and for Myrintuk, the memory of my brother, there is no other reason to prevent us. You now understand something of how physical love is for the Urgralgra, and it's devastating to lose one's mate. They are your entire reason for doing everything you do, and to lose ours to treachery and coercion made it all the worse. The loss seemed like a waste." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps our hesitation arises from the simple fact that such things are not often done. I care for Myrintuk, and she cares for me."

Willow couldn't stop herself after such a confession. She grabbed his hand, looking up into his face imploringly. "Pretend now I didn't decline my right as war chief, Nar Garzhvog. If you still feel indebted to me for the service I performed in saving your life, then do this thing," she begged. "For yourself, for Myrintuk. Don't let any more lonely and sad years pass in the name of some unspoken tradition. Life's too short! We never know when those we love will be torn from us, as those five young rams were a few days ago." She gazed earnestly into his face a few moments longer. Then she dropped his hand, lowering her gaze as she stepped back into Varhog, who put his hands protectively around her upper arms. "Forgive me," she whispered, "if I have gone too far."

Willow dared glance back up at the huge Kull warrior, who was looking at her with a strange mix of emotions in his eyes. Finally, in a very quiet voice, he said, "I'll consider your words, Nar Willow. They are wise." Garzhvog motioned for his children to enter the hut and followed them in. Willow noticed that he didn't have to duck, and she realized it must have been because his brother, also a huge Kull, would have built this hut large enough for himself.

Willow let out her breath, which was the first she realized she had been holding it. Varhog did the same thing then laughed in disbelief. "You're fearless, Willow. Anyone else would have ended up dangling by their horns from a tree for addressing the war chief like that. He is esteemed second only to the Herndall."

Willow turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, trembling a little in the aftermath of her boldness. "I don't know what came over me," she admitted. "I knew it was very forward, but after his heartbreaking confession of how he cares for your mother and she for him, I just couldn't stand to think that they would willfully remain apart when being together might provide some measure of happiness. Especially after the funeral this morning and the events of the past several days."

"It ended well," Varhog observed. "It might have been enough to get him to do something about the way he feels. I think both families would most likely welcome the union and the happiness it would provide their parents. Your amazing ability at work again," he finished in admiration.

Right then, Myrin and Tarhvek walked up with their family. "You two look as if you've seen a ghost," Myrin observed. "What's wrong?"

Varhog bragged, "Willow just begged Nar Garzhvog to take mother as his mate."

Tarhvek stumbled, nearly dropping the baby in his shock. Myrin choked, "Are you joking, brother!"

Varhog laughed proudly. "No, Myrin. She took his hand and everything. His children couldn't believe it. I was ready to toss her to the side and fight him, if it came to that. Her directness inspired an equally forthright confession from him that he cares for mother and she for him. Willow just might have succeeded in getting him to take action. She invoked her authority as rightful war chief." He looked down at Willow. "You had no idea how that would affect him, did you?" Willow shook her head. "It was the one thing you could have said to keep him from becoming violent. You're extraordinary, Eartheyes."

Myrin still seemed dumbstruck. Tarhvek displayed similar emotions. Finally Myrin managed, "All these years mother and Garzhvog have mourned deeply for their mates, and slowly their eyes found each other. We all witnessed the realization as they had it—that they might find happiness with one another and relieve some of the unbearable loneliness and pain. But stubborn tradition, expectation, and honor have kept them apart, and though we've begged mother, he has to be the one to do something about it. None of us had the fortitude to confront him. It might have been the end of us, and I'm not exaggerating." Tarhvek nodded solemnly, as did Varhog, lending credibility to her words.

Myrin took a deep breath. "Willow, what you've done in a moment of rash honesty might put an end to years of unnecessary sadness and disillusioned longing in two great, lovelorn Urgals."

She unexpectedly stepped over to Willow and put her arms around her from behind, whispering in her ear, "Thank you, sister. You've been a blessing in so many ways for our family. Seeing mother so unhappy and lonely all these years has been like poison. She has missed our sire so desperately, her sadness embittered knowing his life was lost needlessly and for a false cause. Only you could have brought this to pass."

Myrin backed up abruptly, brushing tears from her face. She took a deep breath as she attempted to calm herself. "Shall we enter?" she suggested. "I'm most curious to see how events unfold after this."

Willow and Varhog went in first, followed by Myrin and her family. Garzhvog and his children were the first arrivals, and Willow wondered if that had been intentional. The war chief was helping Myrintuk by setting up tables and chairs, as were his children. Trayin and Breetuk—the last of Myrintuk's children who lived with her—were helping their mother in the kitchen. Raygog was twenty-two, so he already had a hut of his own, but he was present and also helping.

Myrin and Myrintuk had brought Willow to this hut on the night of her wedding to wash her and help her dress for Varhog. Willow hadn't paid any attention at the time to the inside of the hut, which had been darker then.

Now with plenty of lanterns and a huge fire in the fireplace, Willow noticed for the first time how spacious the front room was. It had been expanded to accommodate the large family of Yarbog and Myrintuk when all their children lived with them. The size was useful for gatherings such as the dinner, when many more Urgals would be present, with all the married children, their mates, and their cubs.

Varhog guided Willow to the kitchen. "Thank you, mother, for doing this for us. What can we do to help?"

Myrintuk responded by eyeing Garzhvog meaningfully. He must have been acting differently, but he didn't notice her stare.

Varhog chuckled and gave Willow a telling squeeze. Myrintuk now turned her questioning look on Willow. "What happened?" she mouthed silently.

Willow shrugged. "Later?" she returned silently, not sure if she should explain right then. Garzhvog glanced over, and Myrintuk cleared her face. Aloud she said, "Begin moving this food over to the tables so I have more room on the counter to finish this salad."

Finished with his current task, Garzhvog began assisting Willow and Varhog with the job they had just been assigned, regarding Myrintuk solemnly whenever he could, which was clearly very disconcerting for Myrintuk. Garzhvog also looked at Willow a good deal, an expression of amused admiration on his face.

When they were finished, Garzhvog was the one to say, "What next, Myrintuk?" His voice was unusually gentle.

"Uhh," Myrintuk stammered, trying to settle on something he could help her with. "Check on the meat?" she ventured. "Things are mostly done now." Garzhvog nodded and approached the fire.

Garzhvog's children were playing with the littler ones who were arriving with Myrintuk's married children. They openly gawked at Willow whenever their attention was not directed elsewhere. It seemed even _they_ wouldn't have addressed their sire in the same manner she had.

Willow and Varhog joined them to play with their beloved nieces and nephews, knowing it would be as great a service as helping with the final details of meal preparation. The children were chattering excitedly in Urgralish. Varhog translated as much as he could in Willow's mind, which resulted in quite a jumble of overlapping thoughts and words.

Willow smiled at him. "You'll have to start teaching me," she said. The children were mostly carrying on about their adventure that morning with the wolves. Their older cousins—Garzhvog's children—listened in indulgent amusement, thinking the children were recalling some imaginary game, until it went on so long that they began to regard Willow with renewed interest.

Yvenna finally asked, "Did you truly help these children _ride_ on some of the giant wolves that lurk in our forest?"

Willow smiled and nodded. The other adults, who were lounging about visiting with one another, if they weren't helping their mother, silenced their casual conversation to listen, and the room became unexpectedly still and quiet.

Yarbog said, "Please enlighten us, Willow. The children have been going on all day about what happened this morning, and we've been alternating between utter disbelief and mortal terror their tales might be true." He was trying to be nonchalant, but there was a subtle edge to his voice.

Varhog sprang to Willow's defense, launching into the whole story from the very beginning. His tale continued for some minutes as he went through each subsequent encounter with the wolves, how much they loved Willow, and how effortlessly she was able to communicate with them. Everyone listened in fascination. When he concluded by relating the events of that morning, there wasn't a sound in the room.

Willow shifted uncomfortably, but then young Myrek gushed, "Riding Snowpaw was the most exciting thing I've ever done! She was so strong and quick, but she was also gentle and careful. I could understand her somehow, and she understood me. It was amazing, mother! Aunt Willow helped me not be afraid. The wolves were gentle and harmless. They were having _fun_ with us."

"Snowpaw?" Tarhvek asked in confusion.

Willow explained, "I named two of the wolves, and Myrek asked if she could name a white one Snowpaw. The wolf seemed to like the name. She pushed her paw in the snow to show that she understood the meaning." Willow shrugged dismissively, but everyone regarded her in open astonishment, not as accustomed to her unique ability as Varhog.

Willow apprehensively looked around. "I'm so sorry to cause you alarm. I never would have knowingly endangered your children. I was very careful to ascertain the wolves meant well before agreeing to their wishes to interact with the children." She stopped once more as it struck her how odd and unbelievable this must sound to them. "I'm sorry," she said again, lowering her eyes.

Varhog defended her once more. "This is an amazing ability Willow has. I know you aren't as used to it as I am, but she can overcome any barrier and unite the fiercest enemies as loyal friends. The first time I witnessed it was when she helped me reconcile my differences with the dwarf Rider, Knilf. We hated each other passionately. His sire was also killed in the battle at Farthen Dûr, and we refused to let our vengeful loathing be a thing of the past. Firesword tried countless times to reason with us, but we never listened. It wasn't until Willow came to the Isle that we were finally able to move on. Now Knilf is one of my closest friends, hornless mountain rat though he is." The males chuckled appreciatively, and Willow was grateful it relieved some of the tension.

Varhog continued. "Actually, the first bias Willow helped me overcome was my view that all humans would immediately judge me as an Urgal and think of me as a senseless, bloodthirsty animal. She never did. She accepted me from the very start. She saw me as a person and wanted to be my friend." He hugged Willow from where he was sitting behind her and tears came to his eyes, which seemed just as shocking to his family as the tale of the wolves. "Don't question her," he said fiercely. "These wolves are as loyal to her as I am. I can tell they would die for her for the service she performed in saving most of their pack after they tried to kill her. And I'm also sure that they will never harm another villager."

Everyone was silent again, mulling over what Varhog had said. Garzhvog surprised them all by speaking first. "I think I know what you're saying, Varhog," he began. "We first witnessed this ability when you brought Willow here and made known your intentions of taking her as your mate. We forced her to demonstrate her ability in a violent manner, but she prevailed nonetheless and overcame the impossible—to us, at least—idea that a human would ever want to join with one of us." He fell silent, looking nervous as another thought must have occurred to him.

Finally he found the courage to continue. "She also demonstrated this gift for me just tonight." Myrin, Tarhvek, Varhog, and all of Garzhvog's children tensed, but Willow encouraged him with a smile. Myrintuk noticed the strange reactions, and she—along with everyone else—was confused. Garzhvog went on. "When we arrived . . ." He trailed off as if trying to decide the best way to express himself. "Never mind."

Everyone's confusion increased at his uncertain manner. This was their great war chief, and he had that title because of his unswerving decisiveness and courage.

Garzhvog smiled slightly when he noticed their reactions, which only added to their disbelief. "I'll just get to the point," he continued. "Nar Willow helped me realize in a way no one else could have—because I would have strung them up by their horns for the perceived disrespect—that I've been a stubborn fool for many years by holding to pointless traditions, beliefs, and expectations. But in so doing, I've denied myself and someone dear to me what might have been happiness . . ." He trailed off again, but Myrintuk seemed to finally have a clue where he was going. She gripped the counter in front of her. Myrin's tears returned to her eyes, her expression cautiously hopeful this might be happening so soon.

Garzhvog turned his great head toward Myrintuk and regarded her tenderly. "Myrintuk, forgive me. For so long I've willfully held to the notion that we shouldn't be together. I thought it would somehow be disrespectful to the memory of our deceased mates and that my pain should be some type of penance for trusting Galbatorix. But it also caused you pain, greater than that of simply losing Yarbog. I was wrong and I was foolish. Can you overlook that now? Will you accept me as your second mate so we can together find some peace and happiness after our many years of sorrow?"

Myrintuk gasped, tears swiftly filling her eyes, and nodded mutely, completely unable to speak. She looked at Willow in bewilderment as if to say, 'So _this_ is what happened?' Willow nodded joyfully, amazed her plea had taken effect so quickly.

Garzhvog went to Myrintuk's side and very carefully took her in his arms. Everyone was aware of exactly how powerful this moment was. Here were two who had deeply loved another, only to have that love cruelly torn away in senseless brutality. Then, for over a decade, they had never again enjoyed the tender touch of affection from a mate. Myrintuk trembled violently as Garzhvog's powerful arms surrounded her, and she put her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his broad chest. Garzhvog bowed his head and closed his eyes, softly stroking her hair with one hand.

Myrin covered her mouth and her tears flowed freely. The other siblings wore similar expressions of joy or wonder, and all of the females were crying. Garzhvog's children seemed overjoyed, their smiles radiant as they beheld their proud sire humble himself and ask the woman he cared for to accept him. Myrintuk made no move to end the embrace, soaking up the affection as a withered plant would a long overdue drink of water. Garzhvog also did not move. Many minutes passed, and none of the adults dared interrupt the touching display.

But Myrin's second daughter, Rinna, finally grew impatient at the apparent lack of _anything_ happening, so she said, "I'm hungry!"

Myrintuk started as if from a trance, laughing at her little granddaughter's comment. "I'm sorry, Rinna. We _should_ eat. The food is getting cold." She looked up at the ram who still had his arms around her. "Thank you, Garzhvog," she said quietly. "I hoped we wouldn't persist in our stubborn denial forever. I'm thrilled to accept you as my mate." She brought her hands around, briefly resting them on his chest.

Willow recognized the gesture as what she always did right before feeling Varhog's powerful muscles, but Myrintuk had better control. She quickly lifted her hands and stepped back, turning to the salad she had finished some time earlier, when discussion of the wolves first began.

Myrintuk reached for the bowl, but Garzhvog took it from her. "Allow me," he offered, taking it to the main table and returning to her side. She grabbed various serving utensils, trying to remain focused on the task at hand. But she was having a difficult time, especially when the huge Kull reappeared by her side, ready to assist her once more. Breetuk noticed and laughed. Though she was not as tall as Garzhvog, as a Kull, she was closer to his height than her mother.

"Mother, let me finish this up," Breetuk insisted. "You go sit with Nar Garzhvog. You've been working all day, and you deserve a break."

Her mother gratefully agreed, jumping a little as Garzhvog took her hand and led her to the table. Myrintuk placed her free hand over her heart to calm it, and Garzhvog smiled as he pulled out the chair at the head of the main table. She raised her eyebrows in surprise but accepted the gesture. He sat on the bench next to her, taking her hand once more. They didn't speak in words, but the solemn gaze they maintained spoke volumes. Myrintuk lowered her eyes as Garzhvog's involuntarily took on a look of longing. He also glanced away as he realized what he had done.

Everyone was busy helping children find places and serve plates, but Willow had watched Myrintuk and Garzhvog from the moment he had first started speaking. She tried to imagine losing Varhog after decades of satisfying, happy marriage, of having the beautiful expression of intimate love ripped away from her against her will without even one last chance to savor it before knowing she would never get to again. Her heart filled with a painful ache at the thought. Then to unexpectedly find herself faced with an opportunity to share that love with one who, though maybe not as deeply beloved as her first, would still be dear and special? No wonder Garzhvog looked as he did. Willow's tears—for she, of course, had been among the teary-eyed females before—returned, and she pulled Varhog over to sit by his mother and Garzhvog, anxious to bask in their fervent affection.

Myrintuk turned to Willow. "Daughter," she said solemnly. "You are like my own daughter. Thank you. Thank you for what you've done for me. You may not ever realize just what it is you _have_ done. I pray you never will, since it would require losing Varhog and experiencing pain beyond what you feel capable of enduring. For the first time in over ten long years, we will once again enjoy the companionship and love that comes only with the honor of having a mate. This is a gift I never thought to receive." She ended as her tears started again. Garzhvog gently stroked her hand.

Willow smiled brilliantly, so happy she had played a part in their joy. "We need to postpone this feast to call the Herndall together and take care of this business before night fully falls. Then the feast can be a proper celebration, as can this night for the two of you." Though she was partly jesting, Myrintuk seemed captivated by the idea, as did Garzhvog. So in spite of her intense hunger, Willow sprang up, pulling on Varhog's hand. "I volunteer us," she said decisively. "Varhog can show me the way and communicate our purpose. We'll return quickly. Just save us some food!" She led him to the door and demanded, "Take us the quickest route to the dwellings of the Herndall. Will they come if summoned like this?"

Varhog smiled at her lovingly. "For us and for Garzhvog, they will come." She jumped on his back, and he ran. They quickly accomplished their design and returned to Myrintuk's hut.

Willow opened the door, breathlessly calling, "Because of the cold, they have assembled in the hut where they hold court next to the village square. Come everyone! We have a marriage to attend!"

Everyone stopped their meal. It took some time for the large group of people to shuffle mostly single file out the front door and make their way to the village square. Each of the males grabbed a lantern from around the front room to better see in the growing darkness. Soon enough, everyone had trooped into the low circular hut that smelled of burning juniper and cedar.

Myrintuk and Garzhvog worked their way through to the center of the room. Everyone else had surrounded the loose circle created by the twelve elderly dams who made up the ruling council of the clan. Once the couple entered the circle, each dam held her carved staff upright and finished the circle by grasping the staff of her neighbor with her left hand. Garzhvog took Myrintuk's hands, just as Varhog had taken Willow's.

The ceremony proceeded exactly as it had then, but Varhog translated mentally for Willow. She alternated between looking at Myrintuk and Garzhvog and at her husband, understanding now the beautiful words and symbols the Urgralgra used when joining a ram and woman as mates. At the appropriate time, Garzhvog spoke a few words, and Varhog translated. Garzhvog kissed Myrintuk's hands. Apparently that too was part of the ritual.

Myrintuk said quite a few more words. Varhog stopped translating as tears filled his eyes at what his mother said. He simply stared at Willow then wrapped her tightly in his arms. Willow couldn't guess what Myrintuk might have said to cause such a reaction in Varhog, but she welcomed his embrace and peeked around his arm to be able to see the end of the ritual.

Myrintuk kissed Garzhvog's great hands, and he bowed his huge head down to bestow a brief, gentle kiss on her forehead. Myrintuk's tears returned, and she placed her hands on his face. Willow once again recognized the look of longing, and Myrintuk once again exerted her self-control by withdrawing her hands and turning back to her family. "Thank you for interrupting dinner for that," she said. "Shall we return with the beautiful knowledge that your mother is infinitely happier now than she was an hour ago?"

They all cheered before returning to Myrintuk's hut. Thus ended the momentous occasion at mother's, though the feast continued on for some time, and Willow was finally able to enjoy her meal.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** There was once a chapter following this one entitled "Aftermath," which detailed Myrintuk and Garzhvog's wedding night. For the sake of flow and pacing, I have removed the entire chapter and posted it on my livejournal page (autumn6435 . livejournal . com) under the heading, _Part 3, Aftermath_. It's a nice scene, especially reliving some of Garzhvog's memories of events in Inheritance Cycle, and it no longer contains any explicit sexual detail (though I have kept that tag over on livejournal simply to reduce the required scrolling), so if you like those two characters and the way I portray such scenes, you can find it there.

And, the following chapter contains very brief mention of a Mature love scene, just so you are aware.


	12. First Feel

12\. First Feel

Without someone who had Willow's ability to transform a depressing situation into a joyful one, that night in Carvahall was far different than in Varhog's village.

Eragon sat tensely in a chair by the fire and gazed into the flames, wishing he could find a measure of the peace he usually did when observing the mesmerizing dance of flickering blue, red, yellow, and orange.

The past two days had been torturous. It was all Roran could do to keep the villagers from running him and Arya out of town. Those who hadn't lost loved ones in the attack blamed the dragons for bringing the tragedy to their doorstep. The families of the five slain men had refused to forgive Eragon or see reason about letting the attackers take the heads of their beloved sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers. Eragon tightly clenched the armrests, fighting the urge to spring up and dash out of the room.

Arya sadly regarded her husband from their bed. "Won't you join me, darling?" she asked softly. "It's cold without you next to me."

Eragon forced himself to emerge from his self-pitying reverie. His unswerving devotion to his wife and his commitment to her happiness were the only things capable of temporarily taking his attention off the impossible situation they faced. He rose stiffly from the chair and went to the bed, mechanically removing his shirt as he did since he knew Arya would appreciate it. He sat down to pull off his boots and socks then slid under the blanket next to her.

Arya snuggled gratefully into his chest, turning her face toward him and breathing deeply. "Thank you, Eragon," she whispered. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Everything you do helps me," he said dully, staring at the wall across from him.

" _Look_ at me, Eragon," Arya implored.

Eragon sighed, looking down at her remorsefully. "Forgive me, my love," he said. "I don't know how to fix this problem. I could handle the hostility of the townspeople if it was directed solely at me, but that they include you, Saphira, and Fírnen is more than I can bear. What are we to do about this Kulkarvek?"

"Let's not think about it right now," Arya begged.

"But what if he attacked tomorrow? I have no idea what to expect from him or how to defeat him."

"Please, Eragon! Not right now! This has been eating at you for almost three days. We'll deal with that when we must, but let's enjoy each other right now. Whenever a life is lost as needlessly as those ten were, it makes me take a step back and appreciate that the one I hold dearest is still with me. Please make love to me, Eragon. I know it has only been a few days but with how distant you've been, it feels like so much longer. What if you or I died tomorrow?"

"Don't say that," Eragon said.

"It could happen!" Arya insisted. "I know I would regret it if my last night with you was spent lamenting over a mysterious foe when I could have been enjoying your love."

"You're right," Eragon said. "But I don't know if I can right now, Arya. I'm so tense and stressed out that it's sure to affect my body."

"Can I at least kiss you?" she asked longingly. "I've been feeling the baby move so much more lately, especially after we make love. Maybe it's finally big enough that you would be able to as well."

Eragon smiled faintly. "You needn't make a case, Arya, although that's a convincing argument. Your kisses usually serve to completely drown out any other thought." His smile widened as a flicker of excitement lit up her eyes. Already his preoccupation and brooding were fading at her obvious anticipation. "I never get used to the idea that you want me so much, my love."

"Which I'll never understand," Arya replied earnestly. "I want you so much it feels like my heart's about to explode."

"Is that what that insistent drumming sound is?" Eragon teased. Then, without warning, his intensity suddenly exceeded hers. If he couldn't solve the problem before them, he would simply channel all of his anger and confusion into loving Arya as passionately as he could. At least then he might be able to find some respite from the barrage of negative emotions he had been dealing with.

Eragon surprised her with his unexpected ferocity, rewarding her gentle pleas with an experience to rival their first time making love while flying on Saphira's back. A great while later, he lay still once again, listening as her pulse and breathing gradually slowed.

As hoped, Eragon felt blessedly empty and peaceful. All of the troubling thoughts had left his mind, and he finally felt as if he could rest. "Thank you, Arya," Eragon said. "You helped me so much, I can't even begin to describe." He stroked her lower back over the area where her small tummy pressed into him. Rubbing her pregnant belly was his new favorite activity, and before the incident two days earlier, he had done it whenever he could, whether she was clothed or naked.

Arya was performing her equally favorite action of running her fingers through his chest hair. "I'm so glad, Eragon," she whispered. "Thank you for such an amazing experience. How was it for _you_ tonight?"

"Excellent, of course," Eragon replied. "When is it not? Are you willing to shift over slightly so I can feel your tummy?" Arya reluctantly slid to his side so he could reach, and he began drawing patterns on her expanding womb. "I love how it's growing," he said. "It's adorable."

Suddenly he felt the little bump move under his hand, and he froze at the same time she did. "The baby moved!" he exclaimed. "You were right, my love! I finally felt it! Do it again, little one," he begged, and it did. He laughed in astonishment. For some weeks, Arya had felt the baby, but Eragon still hadn't felt it move from the outside. "That's the most amazing thing! It's alive and moving around, getting strong enough to make its presence known. We'll be parents and meet this little one before we know it, Arya, though it still seems so far off."

Arya smiled. "Yes," she agreed. "I'm halfway done making this baby. I hope the second half goes by as quickly as time has here in Carvahall. I've never been so impatient for time to pass in my long life as I am right now." She laughed as the baby noticeably moved once more, and Eragon shifted her gently to the side so he could lean down and put his cheek to her belly.

"I'll pretend that's a tiny hand stroking my beard, just as Marian does," Eragon said with a tender smile. "I find that so sweet and endearing." He turned his face and said, "Hello, baby. I'm your father and I'm so excited to meet you, I can hardly begin to say. This beautiful woman who holds you all day is your lovely mother. She's the most amazing woman who has ever existed and she loves you so much, her heart threatens to burst. We both love you so much, little one, and we'll patiently wait until you're ready to join us, but come just as soon as you are." Then with his lips brushing Arya's skin, Eragon sang the cradle song the women of Carvahall sang to their young ones.

When he was done, Eragon turned to face Arya, once again resting his cheek against her skin. He noticed her tears of joy, but before commenting, he raised his eyebrows wonderingly. "I can hear its heartbeat," he breathed. "Hear it right through everything, and I'm not using my mind. These elven ears sure do come in handy sometimes."

"You're so amazing, Eragon," Arya said fervently. "It melted my heart to see you talk and sing to our baby just then. It won't be much longer before it will hear muted sounds from outside my womb, and it will come to recognize your voice as much as mine. You'll be a wonderful father."

Eragon reached up and stroked her cheek, too mesmerized to leave his current location just yet. "Thank you, Arya. I told the baby what I truly believe. It will be the luckiest baby ever born to have you as a mother. No other baby will be as loved or desired."

She agreed with a solemn nod of her head. "After I heard you use that tune to sing your healing spell for Hope's birth deformity, my opinion of you was irrevocably changed. It was those quiet, unheralded acts—like with Sloan—that revealed your true character to me unlike any of your great feats of magic and fighting during the war. I love you so much, my husband. I'm so humbled to be your wife and so excited to make you a father."

"Arya, please," he objected, smiling at her. "I don't want to feel somber and emotional again. But thank you for those kind words, my love. I've never anticipated anything more than meeting this baby except for becoming your husband." Then he commented, "This makes quite a nice pillow. Perhaps I'll just stay here for the night."

Arya returned his smile but regretfully said, "No, darling. I'm afraid that wouldn't be a good idea. Already my womb tires of the weight of your head and aches from lying so long on my back. I need to turn to my side."

He immediately lifted his face. "Sorry, Arya," he said. "Why would your womb ache when lying on your back?"

"The weight of the growing uterus creates pressure on certain major blood vessels to the lower extremities," Arya answered. "As her pregnancy advances, a woman should limit the amount of time spent flat on her back. Lying on her left side allows for the greatest circulation."

"I see," Eragon said, returning to her side so they could resume their comfortable position. "Well, I'll content myself to stroking it and feeling it move for the time being. Why do you think it took so long for me to be able to feel it, when you have for so many weeks?"

"It's actually a very normal time frame, Eragon," Arya informed him. "But perhaps the placenta is growing at the front of my womb, thereby essentially blocking or cushioning the baby's movements."

"That makes sense," Eragon said. "Whatever the case, I'm thrilled I finally felt it." He paused then added, "I don't know that we're doing any good here. Perhaps we should depart in the morning."

"I have no problem with that," Arya said. "It might make things easier for Roran. Shall we return to the Bolvek village?"

"Yes," Eragon replied. "I think we'd be welcome there, and I wouldn't want to fly any farther in the cold." He sighed. "I think I could actually sleep for the first time in two days. What do you say, my love?"

Arya smiled and repeated words he had spoken on many occasions, making them her own. "Sleep now, my darling. I will keep you safe and warm."

Eragon tightened his arms around her, quickly falling into his waking dreams, which were full of him and Arya as a family, their baby a beautiful daughter who looked just like her mother.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains brief discussion of a Mature love scene.


	13. Birthday

13\. Birthday

That same night, as they snuggled comfortably in bed, Willow lifted her head to rest her chin in one hand and casually asked Varhog, "Does it seem strange to you to think of mother and Garzhvog thus engaged?"

"Not really," Varhog answered. Seeing that his response surprised her, he then wondered, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he was always an uncle to you, and she herself referred to him as 'brother' when she first spoke to me. Isn't that somewhat odd?"

Varhog wanted to make sure he understood her before attempting to answer again, so he clarified, "You think it unusual that as almost family members they shared the most intimate expression of love?"

"Yes," Willow confirmed.

"No, even then, I still don't think it strange. He wasn't her brother by birth, but even if that were so, don't you remember from the legend Garzhvog shared about our Holy Mother Rahna that we believe our entire race sprang up from the union of her twin son and daughter? Before our race was as strong in numbers, it was necessary for relatives to join as mates. As certain families grew, became stronger, and moved to different lands, the current rivalry between tribes began to grow, making the joining of relatives necessary even longer, until time allowed our numbers to increase. Now it isn't always necessary, but nor is it frowned upon when it happens. In a sense, all of the Urgralgra are related in some way or another. I imagine it was, of necessity, much the same with humans, elves, or dwarves. Really any race that began at some point with only a male and a female."

"That makes sense," Willow allowed, apparently satisfied by his explanation.

Varhog continued, glad she had brought it up. "I'm actually thrilled for my mother and Garzhvog. Something about this expression of love is needful for an adult in any species. It seems as important to good health as eating nutritious foods, exercising, and getting adequate rest. To deny oneself—while admirable and important outside of the appropriate bonds of marriage—is only detrimental. When a married couple truly loves each other, the frequent expression of their physical love is essential to their good health and happiness."

"I agree," Willow said, "though I only began to feel the longing to fulfill that need just weeks before I was able to. I can't imagine having to wait seven, ten, twelve years. I understand why you don't think it strange mother and Garzhvog have done just this tonight. I can't imagine going weeks or months after having felt the satisfaction and closeness it brings. For them to be able to again after over a decade must have been incredibly powerful and healing." She paused for a moment then added, "You know, I was thinking this morning at the funeral that I wanted to see your family happy again. I hoped we would be able to celebrate another wedding or birth before long. I suppose Bruntog's mate will soon be having her cub, but I never expected to have my wish come true right away. It was amazing that Garzhvog acted so quickly on my bold request."

"Aye," Varhog agreed. "You gave them—and all of the rest of us—an amazing gift. I daresay that when next we see them, they'll be as fully transformed as any of us who had to wait many years to fulfill that longing—Murtagh, Firesword, and myself included." After a few moments of silence, he added, "Are you now ready for sleep, Eartheyes?"

"Are _you_?" she asked mischievously.

Varhog grinned. "Willow, I would be happy to experience this as often as you desire, but you know I would never demand it when you need rest."

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness," Willow said. "But we had a lovely nap today, and I'm still feeling quite energetic." She drew herself up, speaking her last words with her lips touching his. "So let's get busy."

-:-:-

When morning came and Varhog was still sleeping deeply, thanks to the extensive exercise of the previous evening, Willow carefully moved herself away from him and slid out of bed. She silently dressed and crept to the kitchen, knowing she had little time before Varhog would awaken and come looking for her.

Using magic to speed her efforts, Willow prepared Varhog a special breakfast with the ingredients she had obtained specifically for this purpose the night before. She made enough to eat with him, knowing he wouldn't have it any other way, then went back to the bedroom with a heaping platter in her arms.

Varhog was just beginning to stir when Willow returned to his side bearing the food. The delicious smells of the breakfast filled the room, and he opened his eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed as he scooted over to make room.

"What's this?" Varhog asked with a smile.

"This is your birthday breakfast," Willow replied proudly. "Happy birthday, Yelloweyes!"

Varhog sat up to help her with the heaping tray. "My birthday?" He paused thoughtfully then added, "So it is. You remembered?"

"Of course! That's what we females are good for!"

"And much more besides," Varhog insisted, suddenly looking concerned.

Willow knew exactly what he was thinking. "Don't worry, sweetheart," she reassured lightly. "My birthday isn't for some months yet. We celebrated just before we left the Isle. It's always right before the anniversary of my arrival, and I won't let you forget until I'm at least thirty." She giggled as he sighed in exaggerated relief, finishing, "But I thought you said it was easy to remember my birthday."

"It is," Varhog agreed. "But so much has happened since your birthday that it feels like a year could have passed. Though it has only been four months, in that time we admitted we were in love, visited Tronjheim and Ilirea, got married, made love for the first time, made two babies, overcame your strange reaction to me, visited Carvahall, and returned."

"That _is_ a lot," Willow agreed thoughtfully.

"So how old am I then?" Varhog teased, pretending ignorance.

"Thirty-three," she replied with another giggle. "Now ten years my senior once again, at least until I'm twenty-four. Please, won't you begin?" She had noticed him eagerly eyeing the food. "Oh wait! Let me give thanks first!" She took his hands, closing her eyes and saying words similar to the ones she usually did, feeling gratitude for the same blessings as always. Her words were fervently sincere, though repeated so often. "Holy Mother, thank you for allowing me and Varhog to be together. Thank you for this special occasion and that we can celebrate the birth of this amazing ram. I'm so grateful to be his wife and to be carrying his babies. Thank you for that miracle and that we can feel them growing each day. We're also thankful for this food and for the animal that gave its life for us to gain from its strength and vitality."

Willow opened her eyes to find Varhog looking at her, a tender smile on his face. He softly said, "I love you, Willow." He leaned over to kiss her, and they were both grateful that they had learned to control their reaction so it could be a simple expression of affection when they wanted it to be.

As he began serving her a plate, Varhog nonchalantly added, "You made it sound like _you_ were going to eat some of this animal. Bacon? Mmm. I haven't had this in years. It's one of my favorites. Did you somehow know that?"

"Mother told me last night when you were helping put the extra tables and benches away," Willow answered. "I wanted to do something special for you and asked if she had any tips. When I informed her that I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed, she shared that bacon was a favorite and gave me some to make for you. I knew you most likely hadn't eaten any since living here ten years ago. I hope I cooked it right. It has been a long time since I have."

"It smells delicious," Varhog reassured. He then asked, " _Are_ you going to eat some? If so, I'll put some on your plate."

In reply, Willow took a piece of the bacon and reduced it by half with her first bite. While she was chewing, she gave him a big smile and said, "Yep! Mmmm. That really is so good."

Varhog returned her smile, added a few more pieces of the bacon to her plate, and handed it to her. He filled a plate for himself as Willow poured two glasses of juice.

Willow continued, "I probably won't eat too much, but it smelled so good and sounded appetizing, so maybe I need it in some way. I just don't want to get a stomachache after not eating meat for so long. Bacon can hardly be the best choice to break the pattern with." She laughed as he downed two pieces in one bite.

"Glad I don't have to worry about that," Varhog said with a grin. "My body is so much happier when it has a little meat every now and then. It's nice when I can get a little concentrated fat with extra staying power."

"Bacon will do that for you, no question," Willow agreed. "And you do a fine job, Yelloweyes. Your body is magnificent, not that hearing me say so is any surprise." She pointedly eyed his chest, and Varhog glanced down with raised eyebrows, shrugging dismissively—which made the muscles flex—as he looked back at her, modest as always.

"I wish you hadn't covered yours," Varhog stated in a tone of mock pouting that Willow found highly amusing. She laughed again, setting her plate aside so she could stand and strip for him.

"Is that better?" she asked, smiling coquettishly as she sat down. "I'm committed to fulfilling your every birthday wish if it's within my power."

Varhog nodded appreciatively. "Much better." He looked at her little belly and reached out to stroke it. "How are they?"

"Wonderful!" she gushed. "Glad I'm eating now. But I don't know that my appetite will ever rival yours, even with the demands of growing two babies. If they're sons, we'll have our work cut out for us keeping them fed as they grow."

Varhog chuckled and ate in silence a few minutes, obviously wanting to give her the same opportunity. He finished his first plate astonishingly fast and looked hopefully down at the rest of the food. "May I have more?"

Willow smiled. "Sure. Just let me get a little more first. Then the rest is yours."

As she was scooping off more of the eggs and another piece of toast, Varhog said, "Thank you for doing this, Willow. It was so sweet and thoughtful. I'm not surprised you would be that way, I've just never had anyone do this for me for any reason. I'll be sure to return the favor sometime."

"I'm glad it's meaningful, Varhog. I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunity to return the favor once these babies are born, if what Tarhvek said is anything to judge by."

"True, but I'll have to get plenty of practice before then." He scraped the rest of the food onto his plate and shoveled it into his mouth as swiftly as he had his first serving.

Varhog didn't go so far as to lick his plate or the platter clean, but he did use his fingers to pick up every tiny morsel and put it in his mouth. He grinned at her as she observed him, patting his abdomen and giving her a contented, "Mmm!"

"I hope it was enough," Willow worried. "You polished that off with amazing rapidity."

"You gave me some good exercise last night," Varhog rejoined. "I can see now that you might have done it on purpose to buy yourself a little more time this morning."

"Very clever, sweetheart," Willow approved. " _Was_ it enough? I can make more." She shifted like she would stand, but Varhog caught her hand and gently held her down.

"It was perfect," he insisted. "I feel amazingly well-rested and well-fed." He moved all of the dishes onto the tray and set it on the floor. "How about you? You also exercised vigorously last night and arose before me. Would you like a nap now that you're full?"

Willow smiled at him affectionately. "You're always thinking of me before yourself, Varhog. I'm grateful you're so considerate, but I'm not tired, and it's your birthday. Do you have any wishes I might be able to grant?" She said the last with an innocent look in her eyes, an inviting smile on her lips.

Varhog raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, pretending he had to contemplate her question for a moment. "Hmm. There is something _only_ you would be able to grant to my liking. Shall I show you how it goes?"

"Please," Willow encouraged. "Your wish is my command."

"Then come sit here," Varhog directed, pointing at his lap. "And kiss me here," he continued, pointing at his lips. "And touch me wherever you like," he finished as he pulled her over.

Willow grinned and began obeying his last invitation in the place that always made him grunt in surprise. "Are you sure you're not fulfilling _my_ wish?" she quipped.

"That doing this with me is even a desire of yours is the best birthday present you could ever give me, Eartheyes. I have you, which is more than I ever thought I'd get and more than I'll ever feel worthy of."

As Willow continued her insistent exploration, the deep-chested growl rumbled forth from Varhog's throat. She laughed in delight, moving her hands to his chest so she could feel as well as hear it. "I _love_ it when you do that," she confessed. "Do all rams do it or just you?"

Varhog shrugged. "How would I know? You'll have to start asking around."

"I will," Willow promised, and they happily carried on.

-:-:-

When they were finished, Varhog joked, "Happy birthday to me." Then with complete seriousness, he added, "This is the best birthday I've ever had. Last year, I never would have imagined myself sharing this with you a year hence. I never thought I'd have you as my mate, Willow. No matter how much I wanted it and how sweet and accepting you were, I never thought it would extend to this. I just couldn't see you wanting it. If by some miracle we ended up together, I always thought you would reluctantly go through with it only to please me, but I rarely let myself imagine this. It was too painful when I felt so certain it would never be."

"I'm so glad you were wrong," Willow murmured. "I never had cause to fantasize about us doing this in all our years of friendship, but if I had, I doubt I would have come up with something this good. It's such a beautiful expression of trust and intimacy, the most satisfying sensory experience I've ever had. Maybe that's why it's so transformative and binding."

"It seems almost spiritual for how encompassing it is, doesn't it?" Varhog mused. When she remained silent other than an incoherent mumble of agreement, Varhog began singing to her.

By the end of his song, tears were rolling slowly down Willow's cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm supposed to be the one giving you gifts today, not the other way around."

"In giving we receive," Varhog insisted. "And don't you see, Eartheyes? When you accept me so completely exactly as I am, you _are_ doing something for me, giving me the one thing any ram or man most needs from his mate."

Willow pensively observed, "This is true love, isn't it? As your song suggests, we would each willingly sacrifice anything—including our own life—for the happiness and well-being of the other. We have an amazing relationship, Yelloweyes, one most people search for their whole life and never find. I'm glad we arrived here early on and that we've already overcome so much. We can overcome anything, can't we?"

Varhog nodded fervently, content to gaze down into Willow's eyes for as long as she would look at him, which was a long while. He was sure he could see into the depths of her beautiful soul and hoped his eyes were conveying how much he loved her because the words seemed so inadequate. They must have been, for hers were speaking volumes to him about how much she loved him, how grateful she was for him, and how he was her hero. Tears filled his eyes at the depth and sincerity of her emotions.

Varhog moved one hand to her cheek, stroking carefully with his large fingers and trying—as he had so many times—to understand how she could feel that way about him. "I know what you're thinking," he whispered. "Your eyes are windows straight into your mind, but I still don't understand how and why. I might never understand what you see in me to look like that, but I'll always be grateful. Eartheyes . . ." He trailed off—overwhelmed by the depth of her love—and closed his eyes, causing the tears to course down his face. Could one so much younger and smaller be capable of sustaining that much love? And for _him_? How was it possible? "You're _my_ hero, Willow," Varhog finally finished. "Thank you for motivating me to be the ram I am today, someone who—if I continue on this path—might in a hundred years finally be worthy of you."

Willow laughed softly, and he opened his eyes again. "You know I feel exactly the same, and that seems to be a defining characteristic of true love. Each party always feels that the other is infinitely superior and is inexpressibly humbled to have their love and loyalty. It's indescribable, Yelloweyes. My head is swimming a little contemplating it. Maybe we should lighten up."

Varhog smiled, agreeing to her suggestion by playfully asking, "So what other plans have you made for this my big day?"

"I left plenty of unplanned time to make sure you could have your fair say," Willow informed him. "But your family wants to see you again and no doubt has some celebration planned. Mother is going to prepare some things for a gift I'm so excited about I think I'm going to burst. That is, if she can extricate herself from Garzhvog's arms, or if he'll let her go. Whichever the case may be." She laughed lightly. "What we do next is completely up to you, Yelloweyes. I can give you a massage or we could go clean up together. Or go play in the snow. Or fly. Or eat again. Or make love again. It doesn't matter to me."

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "All of the above? Except for the snow and flying. I want to be inside and touching you as much as possible. Have we already been married over two months? It feels like we're still on our honeymoon. I wonder how long this lasts."

"Let's make it last forever," Willow suggested blissfully. "Though I suppose we'll have to pretend we have some responsibilities before too long." When Varhog didn't specify what he wanted her to do, Willow said, "How about that massage?"

"Certainly," he said. "How can I turn that down?"

So Willow began her massage, which proved to be very enjoyable for both of them and led to an interesting and novel experiment consisting of more fully involving her mouth in her exploration of Varhog's body.

At the conclusion of this trial, when Varhog seemed rather incapable of speech, Willow gloatingly informed him, "I _love_ your body, Varhog. It's almost impossible how amazing it is. I know you don't really even try to get this way, which would make almost every human male hate you, but I still appreciate it so much. Maybe that's why the enmity between our races runs so deep." She laughed. "The men see your fighting rams and immediately feel puny and insignificant in comparison."

Varhog still didn't respond, so Willow continued, "I consider myself extremely lucky to have an Urgal ram for my mate. Most human women only fantasize in their wildest dreams of having a male with a body like this to touch, but it's _my_ reality." She looked at his face in concern, observing his admirable efforts to calm himself.

"That was a fun experiment we just conducted," she said offhandedly, intentionally downplaying it. "What did _you_ think?"

"Guhhh," was all Varhog managed on his first attempt to vocalize.

Willow laughed at him. "I'm sorry I created such intense suffering," she teased.

"Willow," Varhog forced out. "Give me a moment."

"Take as long as you need," she encouraged, stroking down one arm to help him relax, though she wasn't sure it helped much.

Varhog took her hand and held it still against his chest, answering her silent thought. "I'm sorry, Eartheyes. My body is in such a heightened sensual state that any touch from you only makes it worse."

Willow giggled contritely and slid herself off of him, looking apologetic when she realized that the movement also clearly fit into the 'any-touch-from-her category.' She lay still by his side, but was grateful when he mirrored her so she could see his face.

"Sorry," Willow began again, this time serious, but Varhog silenced her with a finger over her lips.

"Never apologize for that," Varhog said quietly. "I can't think of a word strong enough to describe how that felt for me. I think you might have hit upon an equivalent for what you have described when I do the same on your breasts. That you welcomed that . . . and _swallowed_ it. . . . You did, right?"

"Yes," Willow replied, smiling sweetly. "What else would I do? Spit it out? I don't think so. It's supposed to go in my body, remember?"

"You're so amazing, Willow. I think you really must be part Urgal. I might be able to imagine Myrin doing that, but I'm not sure about Naynuk or mother. Definitely not Arya. I might have to brag about you a bit, give the other males an opportunity to have the same enjoyment. What did it taste like?"

"Bacon and eggs," Willow joked.

Varhog raised his eyebrows worriedly before she laughed. Then he chuckled as he realized she wasn't serious.

"Only teasing, sweetheart. Not much really. Slightly metallic. Salty. Not unpleasant, but not a glass of juice. I wouldn't care to guzzle it in large quantities, but it was such a small amount. I imagine it's influenced by your diet, and we Riders eat amazingly healthy. It was really warm. Here, want to try?"

Willow slid her finger once more through the wetness that was now cooling on his abdomen and offered it to him. Varhog let her put her finger in his mouth, closing his lips around it.

"Like you say," he agreed. "Why did you want to do it in the first place?"

"I was disappointed when I couldn't do more to taste your body during my massage. Your muscles are too wide and firm. When I began caressing you with my hands, the idea came to me that I might have the opportunity _there._ I thought you might enjoy it, and it seemed like I would too, so I asked." Her explanation was simple and matter-of-fact, but she added, "I also like any reminder that I can feel your semen without pain or fear of negative consequence. You remember how it felt when I was allergic?"

Varhog muttered darkly, "I'll never forget how that felt to you, Willow." He looked at her gravely, wondering, "And _did_ you enjoy it?"

"Most definitely," Willow assured him. "Especially the part where _you_ seemed to be enjoying it so much. You know how much I love that part of you. It completes me." She smiled again, even more sweetly than before.

Varhog had to smile in return. "Aye, you've told me before, but actions speak louder than words. In this case, _so_ much louder."

Then Willow asked, "Did _you_ enjoy it? You seemed slightly apprehensive."

"Your open enjoyment of that part of my body has always surprised me, along with your bold exploration of it. Not that it bothers me. You just always seemed so innocent and pure, almost childlike. I guess I never imagined that you would be so forward in your love of a male's body, so brazen and provocative. It's divine—this hidden part of you that only I have the pleasure of experiencing."

"Do you think it's inappropriate?" Willow worried. "I just do what feels natural, what strikes my fancy, and what I think you might like, but I won't if I shouldn't. Are there rules for this?"

Varhog laughed, pulling her against him. "I don't think so, Eartheyes. It seems to me that whatever is mutually desired by the couple would be appropriate, so long as nothing they do is violent, coercive, or unwelcome. Which makes me wonder if you think _you_ would enjoy a similar favor?"

"Hmm," Willow said as she contemplated it. "Perhaps. I guess I wouldn't know for sure unless we tried it. It seems likely. I think I might not enjoy being so isolated from you, my hands and lips unable to reciprocate."

"That was the only thing I didn't like about it," Varhog admitted. "It was so much more powerful because I couldn't unleash any of the intensity into you in any other way. My whole body had to absorb it, but only one small area was able to release it. All I wanted to do was pull you up and kiss you everywhere I could reach." He looked at her solemnly. "Thank you for accepting me like that. I never think I'll feel more comfortable with you, and then you surprise me with something like that."

Willow replied, "I'm so glad, sweetheart. I feel perfectly safe with you too. I know I can trust that you'll always be considerate and selfless. You know, if we do that again, you might be able to reach me better if you were sitting. We can do some more experimenting."

"Speaking of experiments," Varhog casually commented, "do you want me to try this one for you right now? I know how you feel about exploring new possibilities."

"I _am_ quite fond of it," Willow agreed with a laugh. "This is your birthday, however. Let's only try it if that's what you truly want."

"I love doing anything with your amazing body," Varhog responded. "I promise it's what I want."

"Very well," Willow conceded. "Let us put our new hypothesis to the test."

Varhog grinned and did just that. Once he had pulled her back into his arms, he gently asked, "And what is your conclusion?"

"Same as yours," Willow answered. "Indescribable. So intense. Almost _too_ intense, since it didn't diminish at all as long as you continued. Thank you for the pleasure, Varhog. Knowing we can do that might come in handy once this belly is so big we can't reach each other around it, though I'm sure I'll keep trying with my usual determination."

"I'll ask Tarhvek or Yarbog what they do when their wives' bellies get large," Varhog offered. "I'm sure yours will be larger with two Urgal cubs growing inside. You'll be beautiful, Willow. You're so beautiful."

Willow snuggled into him contentedly. "So what shall we do next, birthday boy? I guess 'boy' really isn't the right term, but 'birthday ram' just didn't have the same ring. In any case, what shall we do next?"

"Let's go eat some of the leftovers from last night's dinner," Varhog suggested. "That will be fast and easy."

"Do you want to bathe after that?" Willow asked.

"Aye," Varhog said. "I think we should see if we can sing our washbasin any larger so we'll both fit more easily."

"I like the sound of that," Willow agreed. Varhog released her enough that they could stand together. He took her hand as she reached for her clothes.

"Can we stay naked?" he hopefully requested, running one hand from her ribcage along the curve down to her hip. "Birthday wish?"

"Certainly," she said with a smile. "I'll need your help to stay warm."

"You'll get as much as you need," Varhog promised, putting an arm around her as they headed out the bedroom door and down the hallway.


	14. Raygog

14\. Raygog

"You'll have to retrieve the food," Willow said. They simply put food that needed to remain cold out in a snow drift next to the door, rather than worry about the ice box inside. Varhog released her, waiting until she was in the washroom before opening the front door. Willow took advantage of the moment to relieve herself for the first time that morning, breathing a sigh of relief as she did. She felt the gush of freezing air as Varhog opened the front door to grab the food. Then she heard him speak and felt the accompanying rush of heat as a blazing fire sprang to life in the hearth at his command.

When she was finished, Willow washed her hands and went out to join Varhog. He was readying some of the food, and she admired him for a moment. When he felt her stare on his back, he turned and went to her, keeping his promise that he would help her stay warm. She laughed as he swept her into a tight embrace, lifting her onto his feet and slowly swaying around with her in their favorite method of dancing. He hummed a tune to keep time with, and she listened in enjoyment as the deep sound vibrated through his chest.

Willow teasingly commented, "I'm surprised to see that part of you I got to know better earlier relaxed and facing down. It's so often pointing up when we're like this, I'd all but forgotten there was another position."

Varhog chuckled. "Perhaps it has an eye that can only see your beautiful face when you invite it out. Here it comes now. Nothing's more tempting than your soft warmth," he paused as she laughed, "but we don't have to do anything. There's really not much I can do about it. I think it has a mind of its own. Do you remember how powerfully aroused I got after we both fought and you whispered in my ear while sitting astride my lap?" She nodded, and he laughed at the memory. "I couldn't believe what was happening and that _you_ would say such words in that position, especially when I was all but naked. Now I'm not so surprised, knowing the side of you I've had the pleasure of meeting so many times since then."

"I do remember that," Willow said. "It was so obvious under your clothing. It made me feel powerful that I had such an effect on you, but if that part of you has a mind of its own, maybe I can't take as much credit. I'm not sure your undergarments would have fully covered your arousal had you waited any longer."

"No, you're exactly right, which is why I acted so quickly. But you deserve _all_ the credit. You're the only one who has ever had such an effect on me. This reminds me of something somewhat related. Back in Ilirea after we flew and practiced fighting in those trees, you said you would tell me something after we got married. What was it? I was desperately curious."

Willow had to think for a moment. When she recalled the instance, she declared, "Oh yes! I had just been reunited with Sunset after you and I both nearly died and she was so worried about me. I hugged her and kissed her snout then told her I was glad I could do that—kiss her—without fear of any dire consequences because whenever my lips got anywhere near you, I had been feeling the insufferable urge to kiss you, preferably never to stop again. Right then you touched my shoulder to give me my hair pins, and I worried you might have somehow overheard my last thought. That's why I looked so guilty and lied when you asked me if anything was wrong." They both laughed at her confession.

"Then, after your thoughtful gesture, I felt like kissing you again, and I thought to Sunset, 'Do you see what I mean! Enough to drive me insane.' That's when she rumbled in amusement, and I fled to escape the pull of your sensual appeal, with a promise to enlighten you once we were married. Good thing we never did kiss before we got married. We might have regretted it after we calmed down enough to realize what we'd just done, if we didn't just do it again right there on the spot because of how amazing it is. Remember how uncontrollable it was at first?"

"How could I forget? It's part of me as an Urgal. I still feel it whenever I kiss you, but I can control it, thanks to the lovely memories of our first week. I'm grateful because I like doing this," Varhog tenderly kissed her, "without necessarily having to do all the rest."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed blissfully, keeping her face up with her chin against his chest. "I guess that was a blessing in disguise for having to go through all of that."

Black Thunder's voice suddenly warned them from outside, _My son, your younger brother swiftly approaches your hut._

Varhog raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That would be Raygog, I suppose. He'll not wait for an answer but come right in. Well, there's nothing to do but let him see, though I'll do my best to block you from view." He turned them so his back was to the door.

Willow worriedly started to say, "Raygog? It won't be good for him to see us like this. Haven't you ever noticed—" But she wasn't able to finish her thought because right at that moment, a knock sounded on the door and Raygog immediately entered.

Raygog didn't seem at all surprised to find them as they were, and he regarded them gravely. Willow knew he must still be deeply troubled by what had happened only a few days before in Carvahall. "I thought I might find you like this, brother," he said. "Happy birthday, by the way. Looks like it has been a good one, from what I can see. I can't imagine having to wait until age thirty-two to enjoy this, but I had probably better try. I'll never get to experience it myself." He began moving around the room in an effort to see past Varhog.

Willow creased her brow in concern as Varhog sensed Raygog's movements and threateningly growled, "If you think I'm going to let you see my mate naked, you're mistaken, Raygog."

His brother laughed bitterly as he continued around. "Just don't let her go. Then I won't see the best parts. But if you do let her go to fight me, I'm sure to see her full beauty before you smash me to the ground. At least I'd get to see one female besides my sisters naked, and I'd be the envy of every other single ram in the village to have seen in her unclothed perfection the woman who can bring down yourself, Yarbog, _and_ Nar Garzhvog. You should see them. Him and mother. They look so altered, it's almost nauseating. There must be something to _this_ that no one has fully let on about, which is why I volunteered to come fetch you. I figured my chances would be pretty good of seeing you thus engaged and maybe of seeing Willow."

Varhog seemed to see the wisdom in Raygog's words. He stopped turning to block Willow and just attempted to cover her as much as possible, relying on her hair to help his huge arms. She turned her head to the side so she could see Raygog as he came into view.

"Hello, Raygog," Willow greeted as he shamelessly eyed her, shaking her head in warning. "Don't tell me the other rams are now thinking that a repulsive, skinny, hornless human girl is attractive."

Raygog's face twisted in hopeless longing as he looked at her. "It's true, sister," he said. "How could we not after your amazing conquests in battle? I'm sure it's the exact reason Varhog first saw what he did in you. Such feats as those are impossible for an Urgal to ignore, especially a fighting ram. Too bad he was the first to meet you. Any of us would have inevitably come to feel the same way." He let his eyes sweep down her legs again, as they were the main area Varhog couldn't cover. "You look so soft and strong," he muttered dully, the same look of frustrated longing in his eyes.

Though everything in Raygog's manner was confirming Willow's suspicions, she knew Varhog hadn't noticed the same subtleties and was surprised Raygog was pushing him so far. Perhaps he relied on their relationship as brothers to protect him from Varhog's wrath, but Willow wasn't sure that would be enough, judging by how tense Varhog felt. She attempted to warn Raygog by saying, "Varhog has said much the same before, though I only came to gain my current fighting ability through his patient mentoring. I doubt any other Urgal ram would have done the same. You are unwise for pushing him so far right now, Raygog. He could kill you more easily than you realize and he just might—brother or not—if you continue to eye me in such a manner. He feels understandably possessive about what should be his pleasure alone of seeing me naked."

"Then let him," Raygog said dejectedly. "I should have died."

As Willow feared, Varhog completely missed his brother's hopeless manner, and his rumbling growl was anything but passionate. He was furious. "Did you have a message?" Varhog demanded icily. "If so, deliver it and leave. We'll come when we are able."

Raygog seemed to sense that he might have gone too far, but he apathetically ignored Varhog, his hand twitching as if he wished to reach up and sweep Willow's hair to the side.

Varhog obviously noticed. "If you do," he warned in a chilling tone, "I'll rip your arm off again. I can do that without letting her go, and I won't let her heal you this time."

Willow shuddered. It was no idle threat. "Please, Raygog," she implored. "You should go now. I hate that Varhog feels this way toward his brother." She glanced up at Varhog's face, but he paid her no mind. His eyes flashed dangerously, and they were trained on Raygog.

Raygog backed away, moving toward the door. "Fine," he said. "My message is brief. The family is ready for you to come whenever you are. Mother has a few gifts and a meal prepared. Forgive me, brother, Willow. Goodbye." He left, closing the door behind himself.

Varhog roared loudly, no doubt so Raygog could hear but also to release the terrible rage that filled him, and Willow cringed as she jumped in surprise. He was so terrifying when he wanted to be.

"I'm sorry, Willow," Varhog muttered. "I can't believe he did that. I've never been so angry before, except for when Nar Garzhvog spit at your feet. I almost just killed my younger brother. Where did he learn such insolence? Maybe because he was so young when our sire died, and I left only a few years later. Yarbog had taken a mate. Perhaps he didn't get proper instruction in how to respect a female, and especially another ram's mate."

Varhog tightened his arms around her. "I never thought I'd have to protect you from my _youngest_ _brother's_ searching eyes. Seeing him look at you with such longing and hearing him say what he did . . ."

Varhog roared again. "It will take me some time to forgive him. Knowing how he and the other single rams think of you makes my blood boil." He dropped his arms and stepped back, swinging them and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Give me a moment," he warned as Willow moved to return to him. "It's not instinctive for an Urgralgra ram to blow off an insult like that. My blood demands that I go pound him within an inch of his life, brother or not. I need to control this urge before I run out that door and do something I'll forever regret. He seemed apologetic by the end. I'm trying to focus on that."

Willow saw that Varhog wasn't exaggerating, and she quietly said, "It seemed like the longing wasn't for me but another. There was a strange, hopeless tone in his voice. Didn't you notice?"

Varhog curtly shook his head, dropping to the floor to do a hundred pushups in what seemed like less than a minute. When he sprang up, he wasn't at all winded and his rage seemed just as potent. "I didn't notice anything except that my youngest brother was ogling my mate right in front of me. How about we fly for a few minutes?" he ventured desperately. "Maybe the cold air will calm my violent urges. You need to come with me to ensure that I don't run after him."

"Could you maybe channel this terrible passion into loving me?" Willow timidly suggested.

Varhog barked a cynical laugh. "I'd crush you right now, Willow. Please."

"Yes, Varhog," she assured him. "I'll come with you if it means keeping you from killing your younger brother." She followed him as he strode to the bedroom, dressing as quickly as he did in the warmest clothes she had, including all of the winter gear Myrintuk had given them and finishing her outfit with her heavy winter cloak.

Varhog didn't take her hand as he once again marched from the room and out of the hut. He had remained moving the entire time, his hands clenched into tight fists. He walked directly to Black Thunder, climbed up, and situated himself in the front of the saddle. As she followed him, he tersely explained, "So I can block the wind and feel the full effects on my face and body. I'm sorry, Willow. I'm trying so hard to control myself right now."

 _May I put my arms around you?_ she asked as Black Thunder leaped into the sky. Sunset came along, not wanting to be still and alone in the snow.

 _Yes, please do_ , Varhog invited. _It may help me._

Willow wrapped her arms around his wide waist and rested her face against his back, feeling how slowly and deeply he was breathing, which was a stark contrast to the racing of his heart. She couldn't feel the biting chill of the wind from behind him and was actually warm. It wasn't long before his pounding heart rate slowed and his breathing stabilized without forced effort.

Varhog said, _I'm going to stand up and turn around._ He did just that and settled back into the saddle facing her. Then he wrapped his arms around her. _I'm sorry again, Willow. That was so unexpected coming from Raygog. I feel so fiercely protective of you and to see my_ brother _look at you like that was enough to bring out the worst in me. It's going to be hard to see him at this family gathering, but I'm in control of myself now. You needn't fear that I'll do anything violent. I'm sorry you had to see me like that, but your presence reminded me of why I'm trying to be better than my baser urges would normally expect me to be. Will you please forgive me?_

Willow replied, _Of course, Varhog. I forgive you. Thank you for your apology. I too hope you are soon able to forgive him. It was inappropriate, and I'm not sure why he did it, but he seemed to recognize his folly by the end. I admire how much self-control you had and that you feel so protective of me._

Varhog smiled gratefully. Then he commented, _We should ride like this all the time. I can't believe I never thought of it before. You must be so much warmer back here with my huge body completely blocking the wind._ She nodded. _And your hair blows out behind us. I don't feel cold at all with my back to the wind._ He pulled her close, pressing her face into his warm chest. _I'm going to have Black Thunder fly us right into the village. Sounds like there will be food at my mother's. Do you object?_

Willow shook her head. _I know we'll be there soon, but I'm going to rest in the few minutes we have._ They arrived within five minutes—for they had flown in the opposite direction first—and Black Thunder landed in the village square, folding his wings and moving off to the side so Sunset could follow him. Varhog dismounted first, offering his hand to Willow before getting off his dragon's leg.

"Sorry I was so ungentlemanly before," Varhog apologized. "I worried that if I touched you, I'd hurt you. I was feeling so violent, and it's already hard enough not to hurt you with the simplest touch."

"I understand," Willow said. The episode with Raygog had taken a lot out of her, since it had affected Varhog so intensely.

Varhog noticed. While she was still above him and their faces were more level, he gently kissed her. "Thank you for your patience," he earnestly said. "I don't deserve you, but I'll keep doing my best every day."

"Yes, you do, Varhog. You just proved it most commendably. I'm so grateful to be your mate." She put her arms around his neck. "Will you carry me?"

Varhog answered by lifting her. _Thank you, my father,_ he thought to his dragon—also including Willow in the message—as he descended to the ground. _I'm sorry to ask that of you on a day like this, but it seemed like the only thing that would help me calm down._

 _My pleasure,_ his dragon replied. _Almost nothing gives me greater enjoyment than flying with you, even when the snow makes the air so cold. I am proud of you for your self-restraint. Your brother deserved to be toasted for his audacity. If another dragon did that with my mate, he would be a pile of bloody shreds by now. Your example is most worthy._

Varhog smiled, walking with Willow toward his mother's. When they arrived, he knocked and waited for someone to answer. He stiffened when Raygog opened the door, but Raygog's face looked stricken. He stepped back to let them enter, and Varhog set Willow down, taking her hand as he followed her in.

Raygog looked pointedly at nothing as Willow passed him, and she sadly stared at his face. Feeling her gaze, he closed his eyes and instinctively moved even farther back as he felt Varhog pass.

Myrintuk, Garzhvog, Breetuk, and Trayin were present, and they were as solemn as Raygog. Myrintuk said, "We didn't expect you so soon, Varhog. We told the others to wait until they received word from us because we weren't sure you would come. Raygog told us what happened." She glared at her youngest son, as did Garzhvog. Raygog had taken a seat on the sofa between his two sisters, and he hung his head in his hands.

"If that's the case, then he has probably already heard an earful from the lot of you," Varhog said, glancing at his brother. "It was all I could do not to come after him, but thanks to my training as a Rider, Willow's steadying presence, and flying on my dragon, I was able to slowly regain control."

His two younger sisters looked at Raygog pityingly as he shuddered, choking out in a low voice, "Varhog, I'm so sorry for what I did. I have no idea what came over me, why I thought I could get away with that. Well, I think I have an idea, but that's no excuse. It was completely disrespectful and inappropriate. Willow, I'm so sorry. You deserve better than that. If I had been in that position, I'm sure I wouldn't have had Varhog's self-control. Will you . . . can you forgive me?"

Willow's heart broke for his suffering. She crossed the room and knelt in front of him. "Raygog." He tensed and didn't lift his head or look at her. "I forgive you," Willow said. "Thank you for apologizing. I understand. You should have heard some of the things I said to Varhog before we were married. I'm not much older than you. It's normal to feel and think these things at this time of life. You said you think you had an idea why you acted as you did. Why?"

Raygog still didn't raise his head. In a tortured voice, he responded first to her compassionate consolation, "But Varhog was your intended mate. You . . . _you_ are as my sister. To say those things about you right in the presence of my brother—not that saying them if he wasn't there would be acceptable—was totally inexcusable. I _know_ that. I know it, and yet it doesn't change what I felt and still feel." He slowly looked up at her, and she recognized the longing in his eyes, but she saw as she had heard before that it wasn't for her. She clearly saw that he loved someone else, and she guessed that someone was his cousin Yvenna.

Raygog continued, "In answer to your question, I think I acted that way because, as foolish as it was to display longing for my brother's mate, it found expression at that moment because you two were as you were and I was envious. Losing my friends in Carvahall reminded me of how short and cruel life can be. It has intensified my desire to take a mate in the most unbearable way. Life's too short to waste time in matters such as these, but I don't have a choice in this case." The look in his eyes was desperately sad. He must have felt that a relationship with Yvenna was completely improbable, and Willow understood why.

"I'm so sorry, Raygog," Willow gently said. "I'm sure you realize that there's no one for me but Varhog. But there must be many lovely females who would have you."

"There's only one I want," Raygog said, looking down again. Varhog rumbled in warning, and Willow knew all of the others had misinterpreted Raygog's statement, thinking he meant her. No one else besides Willow had seen the full truth of the situation.

Willow hunched her shoulders, feeling as hopeless as Raygog and wishing there was a way she could help him. She decided that if her bold request of the previous evening had such an immediate effect, there was a chance something equally as unlikely might happen again if she spoke up now. "What about Garzhvog's daughter?" Willow suggested. "Is she too young? I saw her looking at you hopefully last night after Garzhvog sought mother as his mate."

"Yvenna?" Raygog repeated, looking cautiously at his uncle, and Willow knew she had guessed right.

"Yes, she's lovely and strong," Willow continued, also glancing over at Garzhvog, unsure if the war chief would approve of her proposal, and noticing for the first time what Raygog had meant about his uncle and mother being completely altered. They both looked so much younger and happier, as if a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

Garzhvog simply said, "Yvenna thinks very highly of you, nephew. I wouldn't object if you sought her. _This_ situation is concerning to me, however. Although I'm not one to speak. I am now the mate of my former sister-in-law." He paused, awkwardly finishing, "I suppose that doesn't help."

In a dangerous tone Varhog said, "No, it doesn't. _Her_ first mate is dead. _I_ am not." He stooped down and gently took Willow by her shoulders, lifting her so she stood in front of him with her back to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. "I want to forgive you, Raygog, but if you continue to desire my mate and look at her like you did at our hut, it will be most difficult. You should seek a mate, or Willow and I will need to leave to remove the temptation."

Raygog didn't even hear him. He had never taken his eyes from Garzhvog, whose benign statement had struck him dumb and immobile. Willow could see the desperate hope in his eyes. In an incredulous whisper Raygog finally managed, "You give me your permission to seek Yvenna as my mate, uncle?"

Garzhvog looked at him in surprise. "Yes, nephew. Did I not just say that?"

"Not those exact words," Raygog confirmed.

Garzhvog finally seemed to understand, and the others were also catching up. "You have long desired her?"

"I have loved Yvenna her whole life though only in the way I imagine loving a mate in the last several years. But . . . but you _never_ would have given your permission for her to join with her cousin. It was a hopeless, frustrated love."

Garzhvog surprised them all by chuckling, long and deep. "That's true, nephew. Then I suppose you have Willow to thank. When she helped me realize that my stubborn denial of joining with your mother was causing everyone pain and serving no purpose, I must have realized by extension that denying two cousins who love one another the same happiness was also mulish and cruel. I didn't consciously realize I had relaxed that view until just now."

Raygog sprang up and embraced Willow—and by extension, Varhog—in his long arms. Raygog kissed her forehead and with deepest gratitude said, "Thank you, sister. You'll never know what this means to me. Actually, _you_ just might after everything you had to endure to be with the one you love." He looked up at his older brother. "And thank you, Varhog, for bringing this amazing creature to our village. It seems she was the only one with the ability to resolve the frustrated, hopeless longing of so many." He moved his hands from Varhog's shoulders, forcing them around Willow's back so he could squeeze her more tightly.

Willow returned his embrace and encouraged, "Go find her!"

Raygog stepped back, eagerly asking Nar Garzhvog, "Where is she, uncle?"

"At home, I would imagine," his uncle replied, still amused by the unexpected turn of events.

"She won't believe me!" Raygog exclaimed, heading for the door. "We'll be back here soon, I suppose, so she can hear it for herself."

"Don't kiss her," Willow mildly warned.

Raygog laughed. "I know! Not until tonight! Mother, uncle, can we be joined today? Is that a problem?"

Myrintuk laughed, clearly relieved that the awkward situation had evolved into this joyous occasion. "Are you sure she'll have you, son?"

"I don't know!" Raygog cried. "I guess I should go find out. See you soon!" And he dashed out the door.


	15. Rumbling

15\. Rumbling

Willow laughed happily, and Varhog pulled her close, kissing her gently.

With some concern in her voice, Myrintuk asked, "Do you need to use our bedroom, son?"

Varhog answered, "No, mother. We're fine. I learned to control that during the week of Willow's strange reaction. It's nice to be able to kiss her as a simple expression of affection."

"I can imagine," his mother said enviously. "Does it never affect you the other way?"

"Only when I let it," Varhog said. "So shall we call the others together for this birthday celebration? We might also have another wedding to celebrate."

Varhog's sisters jumped up, ready to volunteer, but Myrintuk said, "We need not meet, Varhog, if you and Willow wish to be alone."

"Nonsense, mother," Varhog objected. "I wouldn't deny you, Myrin, and the others the pleasure of celebrating my first birthday with me in ten years. Willow and I have been alone plenty this morning, and she treated me to some extremely unique pleasures, not the least of which was breakfast in bed. Thank you for the bacon, by the way. That was delicious. I would imagine that you and Garzhvog are more anxious to be alone right now than Willow and I. What do you imagine we had just been up to when Raygog entered to find us naked?"

"I'm so glad that ended well just now," Myrintuk admitted. "It was feeling very uncomfortable for a time. I just couldn't imagine what Raygog was thinking! If you're sure you don't mind carrying on with the festivities, I won't object. We'll do our best, son, but I'm not sure any of us can give you a gift that will exceed the value of the gift you have given to us by bringing Willow here. She's a treasure of incalculable worth." Garzhvog nodded his fervent agreement.

"Aye," Varhog approved. "I knew you would come to agree with me in time."

Just then, Yvenna burst through the door, Raygog following close behind. "Father! Is it true? Raygog has been trying to convince me that you actually gave him permission for us to get married. Can it be?"

Garzhvog chuckled. "Yes, my dear. It's true. Have you accepted him, then?"

Yvenna turned to Raygog and threw her arms around him. "Yes!" she cried joyfully. "I accept him. I accept you, Raygog!" She was silent a moment before pulling away from Raygog and adding, "Thank you, father." She ran to Garzhvog and circled her arms around his waist. "Can we be joined today?" she implored hopefully, still wanting to be respectful of her sire.

"Of course, my dear," Garzhvog permitted, gently hugging his daughter. "As soon as you wish. Your cousins are prepared to summon the Herndall and the rest of the family."

"What should I wear?" Yvenna wondered of Raygog, returning to his side.

"It doesn't matter," Raygog replied. "You'll look beautiful no matter what you wear." Yvenna smiled.

"We'll make sure you're wearing something lovely before you go off to be alone together," Myrintuk informed Yvenna. "Would you like Willow to be part of that tradition?"

"Yes!" Yvenna exclaimed. She then went to Willow and gave another exuberant embrace. Though not Kull, like her father and mother, Yvenna was several inches taller than Willow. "Thank you, Willow. Thank you so much. I never thought I'd get to be with Raygog. My father was so stubborn and set in his ways and, as war chief, there was no arguing with him, not even as his daughter. This is a miracle to me, to us." She glanced over at Raygog, who was nodding.

"You're welcome," Willow said. "I don't know how I do it, but I'm grateful I can help. No two who love each other should be denied the opportunity to share and enjoy that love. If Varhog and I haven't demonstrated that in ways too numerous to count, I don't know who could."

"Will you be there tonight?" Yvenna requested. "When mother—Myrintuk—helps me. She has been like a mother for so long, and I always hoped she someday would be, at least in this capacity. Now she is even more, not only as the mother of my soon-to-be husband, but as the wife of my father. Thank you for that too. Seeing my sire so unhappy ever since my mother was killed has been terrible. I never thought it would end, what with that stubbornness I mentioned a moment ago." She giggled, glancing somewhat fearfully at her father. Garzhvog simply smiled kindly, no reprimand in his eyes, and Yvenna sighed in relief.

"Why don't you two go spread this news throughout the village so your friends and those who honor Garzhvog can be present if they wish?" Myrintuk suggested. "We'll have the ceremony after this birthday celebration, which will give the females time to prepare something for an honorary feast. Tell them it will be a potluck, so we can pull it off in time. We'll assemble several hours before sunset so it won't be too bitterly cold for the children." Raygog and Yvenna nodded joyfully, clasping hands as they eagerly left.

Trayin and Breetuk then left to accomplish the task of bringing Varhog's family together. Varhog and Willow helped Myrintuk and Garzhvog by bringing out and setting up the tables and benches once more. The family soon gathered and offered many congratulations to Varhog on his birthday. Myrin insisted that he finally hold the tiny baby who bore his name since he hadn't yet, and the child was nearly two months old, already so much bigger than when he was born.

Willow glowed with joy as she watched her husband carefully holding the tiny bundle. The baby seemed to like him, a sentiment the uncle returned. Baby Varhog favored his uncle with a wide, toothless grin, which Varhog couldn't help but reciprocate.

Myrin cooed delightedly. "He has only smiled at me and Tarhvek before now," she informed Varhog. "That's quite a compliment, since he only just met you."

Varhog shifted the baby so he was cradled in one huge forearm next to his chest. "That's because he knows his Uncle Varhog loves him," he said tenderly, gazing down at his nephew. The baby gurgled noisily, batting a tiny fist in the direction of his uncle's face. Varhog leaned over, touching the small hand with his chin. The baby opened his fist and grasped Varhog's chin, so Varhog jutted it out and waggled it around, making mild growling noises. Willow giggled. "Would you like a turn, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked her.

"And deny myself the joy of watching you hold him?" Willow responded. "Of course not! Another birthday gift from you to me, rather than the other way around."

" _Another_?" Myrin wondered with a knowing grin.

"Oh yes," Willow declared. "Every time I tried to do something for Varhog this morning, he gallantly made sure I enjoyed it just as much."

Myrin laughed. "I have a feeling even _I_ could learn a thing or two from you, Willow, no matter how sweet and innocent you appear."

"Yes, Myrin," Varhog agreed, "I'm sure you could. If you've never pleasured Tarhvek with your mouth where he would feel it most intensely, then you should. He'll be glad you did."

Myrin raised her eyebrows in surprise, but her shock was quickly replaced by a look of anticipation as she glanced over at Tarhvek, whose own expressions had closely matched hers. "I can't believe I never thought of that in all our years of marriage! I'm ashamed of myself. I'm looking forward to tonight! Not that I wouldn't have otherwise." She laughed again. "You proved me right. I might need some more tips."

Willow laughed somewhat self-consciously, glad not many of the others were within hearing range. Myrintuk had heard, however, and nodded appreciatively, apparently sharing Myrin's feelings. Willow said, "Make sure you have him return the favor. It feels amazing. Oh, and I have a question. Do all Urgralgra rams rumble in their chests when making love? Varhog does that and it's one of my favorite things, but he had no way of knowing if it was just him or if it applied to your race in general."

Willow blushed as Myrin raised her voice and called, "We have a question that needs answering." Myrintuk laughed as Myrin continued, "Willow here has just asked whether all Urgralgra rams rumble in their chests when making love. Varhog does, apparently. Tarhvek does too. Anyone else?"

Myrintuk nodded. "I can now attest for two Urgal rams. It's wonderful, isn't it?" Naynuk wasn't as forward as her older sister, but she too nodded. Bruntog's wife grinned and agreed. Kiengah laughed her assent.

"I'll be able to tell you in the morning," Yvenna boldly added, giggling at her contribution. Raygog grinned as he put his arm around her.

"But we'd better not see you as early as tomorrow morning," Willow warned with mock sternness, and everyone laughed. Then she thoughtfully added, "It would be interesting to have a demonstration to see who's loudest. Though there's no telling whether they can do it when not making love." She glanced casually at Varhog, her eyebrows raised in an unspoken challenge.

Varhog grinned. "Are you sure that's wise, Eartheyes? What if our passionate rumbling works all our mates into a frenzy? How would we ever explain what followed to the children?" The children were scattered about on the floor, playing happily with each other and completely oblivious to the overtures of the adults.

"I didn't think you'd be able to," Willow said dismissively, as if that settled it. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she continued to look at Varhog, and he grabbed her with his free arm, holding her to his chest and unleashing an imposing rumble that was much louder than usual. The baby in his other arm wasn't at all upset, and Willow realized that he must hear such noises quite frequently. Willow laughed and pressed her face to his chest. "That was pretty good," she approved. "I doubt these others, save perhaps Garzhvog, would be able to match that." She looked at Myrin, the same challenge in her eyes.

Myrin glanced at Tarhvek expectantly. "Well, dear," she said dryly. "Are you going to let one who has only been practicing for two months outdo you?"

No Urgralgra ram could decline a challenge to prove his superiority, and Tarhvek produced the same impressive sound, making it last much longer, though it sounded remarkably like Varhog's. Myrin couldn't resist doing just as Willow had, and she pressed her face into Tarhvek, though with their more evenly-matched height it ended up next to his neck. "Mmm," she murmured. "I love that. Varhog might have spoken sense when he cautioned against this."

The others brothers now joined in, and the children looked up in surprise at the loud clamor all around them. Willow laughed merrily, as did the other females, amused by the determined expressions on their mates' faces and the formidable sounds coming from their powerful chests. As a Kull, Bruntog's was clearly the loudest, at least until Garzhvog joined in. Then everyone else stopped, put to shame by the deafening rumble of the largest ram in the room.

Myrintuk had tears streaming down her face, she was laughing so hard. She steadied herself in the same way Willow had by resting her face against Garzhvog's chest, simultaneously placing a hand over her abdomen, which must have been sore from her prolonged laughter. "I haven't laughed this hard in over a decade," Myrintuk gasped, her happy expression clouded by a pained look as she absently rubbed her stomach.

Willow wiped tears of her own off her face, declaring with finality, "That settles it! It seems only proper that the patriarch of the family would be the loudest. A worthy example to emulate, Nar Garzhvog," she commended. She then consoled, "But well done, all you others. That was quite the exhibition of manliness and noise. I understand now why Lady Nightstalker and her mate considered it a unique honor to honeymoon in your village. With sounds such as those surrounding them all night, it's not hard to imagine a corresponding increase in their own pleasure, though Murtagh no doubt envied you all your impressive Urgralish ability. Varhog and I have often discussed that we must never reveal the secret of what a unique pleasure it is to have an Urgal ram as a mate. If we did, all the human and elven females would come in search of one." She ended with another breathless laugh.

Varhog chuckled, and the others were in similar stages of amusement. "This birthday just keeps getting better," he observed. "I can't remember ever having a family gathering this fun before I left. Did you have any while I was gone?"

Most of his siblings shook their heads, and Myrin answered, "No, Varhog. With mother so sad and you gone, how could we? Besides, if Nar Garzhvog had been present and done what he just did at any other time before last night, we all would be cowering in terror and our rams would no doubt be marching out to battle. _This_ is only possible because you took this amazing human as your mate. She fits in perfectly with our Urgralish family, suggesting a scenario none of the rest of us would have thought of." Myrin hugged Willow tightly. "Thank you for forcing me to see what I stubbornly insisted on being blind to at first. You are perfect—more than perfect—for my brother and our whole family. And our whole clan, it seems. Maybe there will even come a time when you prove your worth to our entire race. I'm sure you're capable of that and greater."

Willow returned her embrace. "Thank you, Myrin. You have no idea how wonderful it feels to be part of a family again. I never experienced anything like this, not even when my parents were alive. I hope no one was offended by my idea. I love everything about your race, including the amazing and terrifying sounds your rams can make. I'm honored to be a part of your family and Varhog's mate. I meant what I said about keeping my unique privilege a secret. You Urgralgra females might not realize what a pleasure it is since it's all you've ever known, but Urgal rams are _much_ different from males of other races. Not that I know from personal experience, but from the memories of the Eldunarí."

Willow briefly explained her meaning so everyone would know how she had gained that particular knowledge. She finished by saying, "Come to think of it, an Urgal ram probably most closely resembles a male dragon in his mating habits. I never thought of that before."

"Though even a dragon might not be able to carry on endlessly when he wants to," Varhog quipped. The males and most of the females laughed appreciatively.

Tarhvek asked in disbelief, "Do you mean to say that males of other races _can't_ do that?" Varhog shook his head. "What happens then?" Tarhvek demanded.

Varhog explained as delicately as he could, aware some of the older children might be listening, though even then he wasn't overly concerned.

"Ah," said Tarhvek with a pitying shake of his head. "Too bad for them." He laughed, and was once again joined by all of the adults in the room.

Garzhvog suddenly announced, "I don't know about the rest of you, but all of this talk is making me hungry. We can anticipate satisfying that other hunger later tonight, but for now let us enjoy the meal Myrintuk has prepared."


	16. Wisdom

16\. Wisdom

They prepared to eat, and once everyone was ready, Willow raised her voice enough to request, "May I give thanks for this meal?" No one objected, so she closed her eyes, automatically taking Varhog's hand, and earnestly said, "Honored Mother Rahna, thank you so much for this amazing family and that I can be a part of it. I'm so grateful for my new mother, father, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews. We're so thankful for the many happy occasions we've had cause to celebrate since I arrived, and that we have more yet to come with the babies due and the weddings planned. We're grateful for this delicious meal that mother and Garzhvog have prepared. Please allow it to give our bodies the strength and energy we require for good health. And please comfort the grieving families who lost sons and brothers in the fighting in Carvahall. Amen."

Willow opened her eyes and became painfully aware that most of the eyes in the room were trained on her. She glanced at Varhog worriedly and whispered, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Eartheyes," Varhog reassured her. "What you said was perfectly right, and my family agrees. They all love you." Those near enough to hear nodded their agreement.

Willow sighed in relief. "I only said what I feel," she said honestly.

"I know," Varhog replied. "And no one else could have said it better."

Willow smiled and began eating, famished from the long activities of the morning and early afternoon. As Willow served herself a third bowl, Varhog observed, "You don't seem to mind eating the meat in this."

"No," she said. "It's so good. I'm not overly concerned because it seems to help keep me full with the increased demands of this pregnancy. And I didn't take the animal's life, which makes it marginally better. I'm grateful for its sacrifice."

"As am I," Varhog agreed. "I'm getting spoiled eating so much meat here. When we return to the Isle, it will be an adjustment as I go back to eating plants most of the time."

This topic seemed to interest Garzhvog, who was sitting nearby. "Do the Riders not eat animal flesh?"

Varhog said, "For the most part, no. Grintuk and I are the only ones who do on occasion, as our bodies seem to need it for us to maintain our energy. As part of our training, we must meditate in the wild and focus our minds on the energy found in nature. When you learn to do it, it's unbelievable that even the smallest ant contains such brilliant vitality. We come to realize that their struggle for survival is greater than ours, which makes it difficult to take a life even to sustain our own, knowing the creature has a family and desires and a purpose to fulfill. Sometimes that purpose is to give their life to sustain that of another, and when it is, I'm always grateful for the sacrifice, since I realize how deep it truly is. It's why I was so reluctant to injure those wolves, though I knew they meant to harm Willow."

As Varhog finished, everyone seemed impressed by his wisdom. Willow was the only one who had ever before been exposed to the ideals he was espousing. Garzhvog thoughtfully said, "That's interesting, son." He paused then asked, "May I call you that, or do you prefer nephew? I wouldn't presume to fill my brother's place without your permission."

"You may," Varhog said simply. "May I call you father?"

"It would be an honor," Garzhvog replied. "What I was starting to say is that I'd never given much thought to the taking of an animal's life or that they had desires and commitments like we do, though they might perceive them differently. It seems this wisdom learned by the Riders could benefit all of the races of the land. Is it really necessary for you to remain so isolated from the rest of us?" He said the last while looking at Willow. "I don't want to be unnecessarily separated from this dearest daughter-in-law and her two cubs when they're born. After all, she was the one who taught me that such unnecessary separations only cause pain and heartache."

Tears filled Willow's eyes at Garzhvog's honest sentiment. "Thank you, father," she whispered, the tears spilling onto her cheeks as she used the title she hadn't been able to in so many years. "Sorry," she said ruefully through her tears. "It feels amazing to be able to say that and, what's more, that it feels natural." Garzhvog reached over, placing one great hand on her arm.

Varhog answered Garzhvog's question by saying, "Firesword doesn't want the presence of the Riders in Alagaёsia to be overbearing because our bonds with the dragons give us such great and unnatural powers. He knows this can create intimidation and undue deference. But he also wants the peoples to know that we Riders are available for them when circumstances might warrant our presence, and circumstances lately have been very compelling in favor of our presence here. We're not forced to remain on the Isle after our first four years of training are complete, and even before then, no one would ever be constrained to stay if they truly wished to leave. But no one has wanted to leave. We feel a great sense of family unity and comradery.

"After the four years, we can make visits back home, which Murtagh, Hanin, Knilf, and Bodin have done. Willow had no family to visit, and I never wanted to leave her. I suppose I worried she might come to fancy one of the others in my absence. Not that she fancied me when I was present."

Willow interjected, "I did right before we left, Yelloweyes."

"Yes, you most certainly did, which was totally unexpected," Varhog agreed. Then he continued his previous train of thought, "We'll discuss with Firesword whether we might enjoy more lenience now that we've reached a certain point in our education. We are but in our infancy when it comes to what we've learned compared to what we still have to learn. However, Willow and I both wish to spend more time here, and I know Murtagh will be staying in Alagaёsia with Lady Nightstalker."

Garzhvog accepted this explanation without further questioning and the meal continued until the food was gone. Then Myrintuk disappeared for a moment, emerging from the back of her hut with a plain bundle, wrapped in a homemade quilt. She presented it to Varhog without fanfare and said, "It was Willow's request. Happy birthday, son."

Varhog accepted the gift. "Thank you, mother," he said with a smile, unwrapping the quilt to find a wad of thick strips of fabric.

"For our hearth rug," Willow explained excitedly. "You told me once that couples work on this during the winter months. I already know I've made a good choice in my mate, but I still wanted to do this. And I have a favor to ask you while we do." She paused expectantly.

"Anything, Eartheyes," Varhog promised.

"I want you to start teaching me Urgralish. I can't believe I never asked you to before, but I really want to understand and be able to speak your native language. Will you please help me?"

"I will," Varhog promised again, reaching out to caress the side of her face.

"And I have another present," Willow said, just as eagerly as before. "I didn't really know what was customary, but I've noticed some of our brothers wearing them so I thought you might too." She reached into a pocket and pulled out something small that fit inside her fist. When she opened her hand in front of Varhog, two simple bands rested on it. One was large and black and the other was smaller and of a brilliant pinkish-orange hue.

"They're wedding bands," Willow explained. "I made them from a scale of each of our dragons. I stole the idea from Arya's band for Eragon. She explained it to me once. I didn't know where to find jewels that matched the color of our dragons' scales, so I just asked them if I could use one and sang them into the right shape. I hope yours is the right size. Your fingers are so large."

Willow held up the black ring and reached for his left hand, which was where she had noticed such bands on other married members of the family. "I didn't think you would want any pink on yours," she said with a giggle. "I'm not sure you ever noticed Eragon's wedding band. Arya intertwined emeralds and sapphires to represent Fírnen and Saphira, but I thought it would fit our current pattern to simply use all black for yours and all pink for mine." She slid the ring on his third finger, but it was too small. "Here, I'll fix it," she said, quietly singing words from the ancient language to enlarge the band. As soon as it slid over Varhog's knuckle, Willow stopped and admired the glimmering black band. "It matches your fingernails," she observed before asking, "What do you think?"

Varhog examined the ring on his hand then looked at her face. "I love it," he said. "And I never knew you could sing like that. Now you'll have to sing to me each night before I sing to you." She smiled happily at him. "Let me do yours," Varhog offered. "Sorry I never thought about this. I wouldn't have come up with something as amazing. Using dragon scales was a good idea. They won't ever chip or scratch or bend." He gently took her left hand and slid the ring onto the appropriate finger. It fit perfectly.

"I could make mine the right size," Willow apologetically explained. "I didn't want to give away the surprise by asking to measure your finger." She looked at her own ring. "I love it!" she declared. "Sunset's scales are _so_ beautiful! Now I have a dragon, a ring, and a cloak all the same color." She let Varhog inspect her ring.

"It's lovely," he agreed. "That color even looks amazing on your hand."

"That's all I have," she said. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"You spoiled me," Varhog said. "By far the best birthday I've ever had."

"Unless any of you have anything else, I suppose the birthday celebration is over," Willow said to his family.

Tarhvek cleared his throat when Myrin elbowed him and said, "Myrin reminded me some weeks ago that your birthday was coming up, Varhog. We didn't know if you'd be home by today, but she insisted that the males in the family begin preparing a gift for you, just in case. Which we did, of course. At their urging." He smiled when Myrin rolled her eyes. Yarbog hopped up and went outside for a moment, returning with a large object covered in a scrap of material, which he set in front of Varhog.

Varhog smiled. "Thank you, brothers. Or sisters, I should probably say. I know the males wouldn't have done this on their own." He pulled the scrap of burlap off the object to reveal a log stump carved with the faces of many wolves.

"We didn't know about Willow's experience with the wolves until yesterday, but we still carved the log with wolves," Tarhvek said. "Maybe we were inspired."

"This is amazing," Varhog said. For Willow's benefit he explained, "This is a custom of the Urgralgra. We take logs and carve them with the faces of animals of the mountains. Then we bury them upright by our houses to frighten away the spirits of the wild."

"I've noticed these around the other huts!" Willow exclaimed. "The wolves are so perfect! Although we have several real ones who would no doubt be just as effective at scaring away meddlesome spirits." She giggled. "I wondered why we didn't have one at our hut."

"I hadn't gotten around to making one before Black Thunder hatched for me," Varhog said. "Then it just didn't seem important since I knew we'd be leaving soon. Thank you again, Tarhvek. Yarbog. And any of you others who helped. It's masterful."

Tarhvek shrugged dismissively. "You're welcome, Varhog."

Myrintuk then approached with another bundle. "I made this one myself," she said, handing it to Varhog.

Varhog smiled lovingly at his mother. "Thank you, mother. You know I didn't expect anything. I had all but forgotten my own birthday."

"Yes, son," Myrintuk replied. "But we didn't forget. And we prepared all of this with the hope that we could give it to you on your actual birthday. How glad I am we can."

Varhog opened the bundle and held up a brightly colored strip of cloth as wide as his hand. "A namna!" he cried. "It's beautiful, mother! Thank you."

Myrintuk smiled proudly. This time she explained for Willow, "This is another tradition of our people, Willow. Our most skilled weavers create these cloths for new couples when they first come together as mates. If either of the mothers has the ability, it is her honor to begin the weaving of the namna. With each significant life event—such as a birth or death in the family—the namna can be added to. Thus it comes to tell the story of the family living in the hut. We hang them next to our doors and anyone familiar with the patterns will be able to know something about the family they are visiting just by studying their namna."

"How lovely!" Willow declared. "What beautiful customs the Urgralgra have! These gifts were a surprise even for me, Yelloweyes. And I'm so happy we'll be able to adorn our hut in proper Urgal fashion. You'll also have to teach me to understand the patterns, then I can begin to decipher the messages of the namna hanging at the other huts we visit—"

A knock at the door interrupted whatever she might have planned on saying next. Yarbog, who was nearest, once again stood and answered. "The Herndall are ready in the village square," he announced after conversing briefly with whomever had knocked. "Let's get the children bundled up so we can go out and meet the others," he then suggested, turning to the huge pile of winter clothing that had been stacked next to the door as families had entered. "You all are going to have to help me," he said as he pulled the top cloak off and looked at it hopelessly.

The mothers congregated and shooed him away, making quick work of sorting out which boots, gloves, earmuffs, cloaks, and scarves belonged to whom. The children were sent out the door as they were expertly bundled in the appropriate clothing, the rams accompanying them to supervise as their own cloaks and boots were uncovered. Willow heard squeals of delight and playful growling noises. She smiled at the evidence of the rams playing with their cubs.

She and Varhog were among the last to leave the hut, as they had been the first to arrive and their cloaks were at the bottom. When Willow was carefully bundled, Varhog swept her up with a grin. "I'll carry you again," he suggested.

"Fine with me," Willow said, settling contentedly against his chest. "Are you sure we're not the ones getting married here? I think I'm feeling the same anticipation and longing I did that first night." Myrintuk, who was close enough to hear, laughed at her statement.

"I agree with you, daughter," she said sympathetically.

"That's understandable though," Willow said. "You just got married last night. Varhog and I . . . I guess I should only speak for myself. _I_ ought to have better control by now."

Garzhvog said, "Your control is admirable. But the longing never leaves, so you shouldn't expect that."

Varhog asked him, "How did you stand that all those years, father? I was ten years older than I had to be before I experienced intimate love, but I think I could stand it because I didn't know what I was missing. _Now_ if I had to endure a similar span without Willow, I'd die. I'm sure of it."

"I did, son," Garzhvog said quietly. "That part of me died with Yvenna, my first mate. I realized that last night as it was reborn. It was the only way I could survive without literally dying." He moved his hand from where he was holding Myrintuk's and put it around her shoulders. "I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." The look in Myrintuk's eyes bespoke her fervent agreement.

"You've never been one to be melodramatic," Varhog observed, "so I'll choose to believe you. I hope I never live to experience it."


	17. Urgralish

17\. Urgralish

They reached the village square where a large group was gathered. Raygog and Yvenna were greeting friends and receiving many congratulations. Varhog said to Willow, "Would you like to begin your Urgralish lessons right now, Eartheyes?"

"But of course, Yelloweyes! What must I do?"

"For now, nothing," Varhog replied. "I'll repeat the words of the Herndall in Urgralish in your mind so you can hear them clearly, but I won't translate them. I'll also put images in your mind to convey the meaning of the words. It's how I learned from the Eldunarí. You'll have to tell me if you think it will be effective. If you wish, we can also ask the whole family to start speaking in Urgralish for your sake. I can 'translate' with images. I'm sure you'll come to understand quickly that way."

She kissed him to show her understanding and assent. "Anything to feel the constant presence of your mind in my own. Your mental voice is as beautiful as your real voice."

Varhog agreed, "I love the tone of your mind, Willow. It's as bright and warm and beautiful as the rest of you."

They stood quietly for a moment and were astonished when Eragon and Arya suddenly appeared beside them as silently as wraiths. "Eragon!" Willow exclaimed. "Arya! What are you doing here?" She slipped out of Varhog's arms to give each of her dear friends an embrace. They looked grim and morose.

Eragon solemnly replied, "We felt—and Roran agreed—that we should leave Carvahall for a time. We left before first light and flew as swiftly as we could." He addressed Varhog. "May we stay here for a time? The weather's too cold for me to feel comfortable flying any farther with Arya."

"You're always welcome here, Firesword," Varhog said earnestly. "But why leave? I thought the villagers would be grateful for the dragons' protective presence."

Eragon sighed wearily and said, "The townsfolk _blamed_ the dragons for the attack. And their hostility toward me was increasing by the hour since I ultimately allowed the Urgals to take the heads of their innocent dead. But the fact that their anger was increasing toward Arya and the dragons was too much for me. Perhaps some time away will force them to see the folly of their stubbornness. In my mind, they're much more vulnerable without our presence but we couldn't have dissent within the village. And they could be right. Maybe the attack wouldn't have happened if we hadn't been there." He sighed again, staring gloomily at nothing.

"Oh, Eragon," Willow said. "I'm so sorry. How awful that must have been on top of the tragedy itself. I don't mean to trivialize anything you've gone through, but we've had some happier events happen here that might lighten your mood. Just last night Nar Garzhvog and Varhog's mother got married."

Arya's glum expression cleared as she smiled. "Really?" she cried. "How did that happen?"

Varhog proudly explained all of the events of the previous day, including the encounter with the wolves and his family's reaction to it.

"That's wonderful," Arya said. "I like hearing glad tidings. Is that all?"

"Well, today is Varhog's birthday and we're waiting right now for another wedding between Raygog and Garzhvog's daughter Yvenna," Willow said.

Eragon smiled faintly. "Happy birthday, Varhog."

"Thank you," Varhog replied.

"Did you also orchestrate _this_ wedding, Willow?" Eragon asked, and Willow nodded modestly. "I'm not surprised. And I'm sure Varhog wasn't. It's an amazing gift you have, Willow. Thank you for sharing. Your good news has reminded me of something equally exciting, at least in my mind. I felt our baby move for the first time last night."

"You did!" Willow gushed. "How delightful! That _is_ just as exciting! Aren't you already halfway through your pregnancy, Arya?"

"Yes, almost exactly," Arya answered. "I'm so glad we came here, darling," she said to Eragon. "Already I feel so much better. Willow seems to spread cheer wherever she goes."

"I was feeling so depressed yesterday morning after the funeral and the day before on our flight here," Willow admitted, turning back to Varhog, who once again picked her up. "Varhog helped me feel a little better but playing with the children really did it. It reminded me of what might be our most important purpose as Dragon Riders. If we can't ensure peace in this land for our children to grow up in, it will be a frightful place for them to live. Especially _our_ children, with their unique parentage. That in and of itself is sure to make their experience more challenging than it otherwise would be."

"That's true," Eragon agreed thoughtfully, likewise lifting Arya into his arms so she wouldn't have to stand in the snow and waiting beside Varhog as the Urgals milled about them. In the bustle and excitement, no one else had yet noticed the arrival of the two other Dragon Riders.

As they were waiting for Raygog and Yvenna to make their way to the loose circle formed by the Herndall, Willow asked Varhog something she had been thinking of. "What did your mother say to Garzhvog when they were joined by the Herndall? It was the only part you didn't translate for me."

Eragon and Arya looked over in interest, and Varhog regarded Willow somberly. "She actually paid tribute to you, Willow, as odd as it sounds. She shared her deep conviction that everything, _everything_ , that happened from the time Saphira first hatched for Firesword was put in place to ensure events would unfold precisely as they did. And she believes part of the reason they did was so I'd find you and you'd come here so she and Garzhvog could be together."

"Really!" Willow cried in astonishment. "That's amazing. To think of how calculated everything had to be if that really was the case."

"Aye," Varhog agreed. "Galbatorix was desperate to intercept Firesword and Saphira before they reached the Varden, so he had Durza coerce our fighting rams from many tribes as his last possible hope of accomplishing his objective. When he failed, he then orchestrated the Battle under Farthen Dûr, which had to happen. All those Kull warriors, my father included, had to die, along with Garzhvog's mate—thereby revealing to us the depth of Galbatorix's treachery—before the rest of the fighting rams would have ever sought out an alliance with the Varden. The alliance with the Varden was necessary to open Firesword's eyes to the difficulty of our race, to acquaint him more closely with our ways, and to convince him we weren't bloodthirsty animals before he ever would have considered extending the pact of the Riders to the Urgralgra. And that too was absolutely essential, for that's where I entered, and as the first Urgal Rider, I ended up on the Isle where you also ended up. There we met, and here we came and through you, my mother was able to finally see an end to her years of grief and loneliness. It's certainly not the only reason it all happened, and Firesword and Arya might disagree, but my mother believes it's _one_ of the reasons, and she'll be eternally grateful. We never would have met, Willow, if I hadn't become a Rider, and all of the rest of that had to happen in order for such a thing to be. I think I feel the same, especially since we saw each other in Feinster. It seems our meeting was supposed to happen, for one reason or another."

Willow's eyes were wet with tears as she listened to his long explanation. All of the pieces fit together. "How incredible," she breathed. "It's amazing contemplating that someone somewhere might have such an understanding of how things will play out as to line up our meeting and the things I've done here. It turns my previous view—the one where I thought any gods that might exist watch in morbid delight as we struggle and suffer here below them—right on its head. Such an intelligent, all-knowing being must surely love us if they care enough to set in motion _that_ chain of events so that a handful of good people would eventually find happiness and peace in their lives."

"Yes," Varhog agreed gravely. "I believe they love us very much and all they want for us is to have joy and peace in our lives. All of the sorrow and suffering serve only to allow us to recognize the joy when it comes and to appreciate it all the more. Challenges makes us better people if we let them."

Willow wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "That's beautiful," she whispered. "I like that notion. I'd go through all the suffering we've been through again if it would lead me to the same joy and contentment I now feel. _This_ made all of _that_ worth it. And all of the grief of losing my family was worth it too, if it made me a good candidate for becoming a Rider and led me eventually to you. My joy with you and your family is far greater than what I ever knew with my mother, father, and brother."

Eragon and Arya listened thoughtfully to the exchange. Varhog glanced at them apologetically. "I know elves generally don't exercise faith in higher powers. We Urgralgra believe that such entities exist and want us to be happy."

Eragon said, "I received my initial training from the elves but have been exposed to various religions and beliefs during the war and continuation of my training. I didn't have any particular conviction before Arya and I were reunited but it wasn't long after—the next day actually—that I began to feel differently." He briefly shared the difficult impasse he and Arya had encountered and overcome by deciding to have faith that things would work out for them, just as they always had, though their situation had seemed impossible.

Eragon concluded by saying, "We might not be exactly sure what we have faith in, but we have a firm conviction that something worked to bring us together so we could ultimately triumph over Galbatorix and reunited us when the time was right. And that someone or something also rewarded our faith with an immediate resolution of our concern by allowing Arya to conceive. It would be foolish to ignore the evidence before us."

"I didn't know you had gone through that," Varhog said quietly. "It's reassuring to know that someone is looking out for us here."

"Truly," Eragon agreed. "And I can't help but feel that you and Willow have an equally important role to play in establishing peace in Alagaёsia as the one Arya and I performed. Since you're an Urgal and human and the main conflict still appears to be between our two races, those forces are still at work influencing the outcome of events in the land. I didn't know you had met in Feinster. Wait, now that I think about it, it seems you had some type of revelation when she first arrived on the Isle."

"But I didn't know," Arya insisted. "Won't you share?"

Willow smiled and recounted the story.

"Amazing," Arya breathed. "It definitely seems like too much to be a coincidence."

Their conversation then ended as Raygog and Yvenna finally made their way into the Herndall's circle. As promised, Varhog repeated the words of the ceremony in her mind. Urgralish was a harsh and guttural tongue, making even Varhog's soothing voice seem severe and rough.

Willow tried to form the sounds of the words and found it extremely difficult. Varhog relayed a series of images to help her comprehend the meaning of the words, but he also struggled since this ritual revolved around abstract and symbolic concepts, rather than physical objects. His best context to draw from was their own relationship, so he used many of their experiences, and Willow understood the gist of the ritual, though she wasn't sure of the precise meaning of each word.

After the ceremony was finished and Raygog and Yvenna had each kissed one another's hands, Varhog looked at her apologetically. "That was harder than I thought," he confessed.

"You did wonderfully," Willow reassured him. "How do you say I love you in Urgralish? Or is there even such a phrase?"

"Not exactly, but the closest thing would be—" and he said a harsh sounding phrase, something that seemed far from romantic to Willow.

Willow giggled then after asking him to repeat it, she attempted to say it herself. She only managed a poor approximation, and Varhog also laughed. "You need to curl your tongue more on the second part," he instructed. "And all of the sounds come from farther back, deep in your throat and chest."

"Hmm," she said with a mischievous grin. "You'll have to show me what you mean when we're alone again. If you can give me more exact demonstrations, then I might just stick with this difficult undertaking. I'm not sure I have the physical capability to produce this language, Yelloweyes. My chest and throat may not be equipped for it."

"Your words need not sound as deep as mine," Varhog reassured. "Actually, if they did, I'd be concerned. It might help when you hear the women and children speaking it more, since your tones more closely match theirs. If you learn Urgralish, you'll be the first human ever to do so."

"Another first for me," Willow said lightly. "I _am_ going to, and I'm sure you can see I'm completely determined, no matter how hard it will be."

"Is that what you two are up to?" Arya asked. "I wondered what was going on."

"I asked Varhog to teach me Urgralish," Willow explained. "We're going to start weaving our hearth rug, which is an Urgralgra tradition and while we do, I'll be working on this too. But what about Angela? She speaks Urgralish. Oh wait. I guess she's technically not a human. Where is she anyway? I remember her being in Carvahall for a time, and one day she was simply gone."

"Good question," Eragon said with a chuckle. "She did seem to disappear at some point during our stay in Carvahall. Maybe she didn't like the cold weather and resorted to a tropical southern location for the winter. I'm sure she'll turn up at exactly the right moment, just as she always does."

"No doubt," Willow agreed. "Depending on how long you two plan to stay, you might also have a chance to learn Urgralish. Tell me how to say 'I love you' again," she requested of Varhog.

So he did, and Willow repeated it over and over, exaggerating the movement of her tongue in what felt an extreme manner to her until Varhog finally said, "That was closer, but it still needs to start from farther back."

"Where?" she asked with affected naiveté.

"Try here," Varhog suggested, lowering his head to place his lips at the base of her throat. Willow tried to get the sounds of speech to start that far back, but it was so foreign and unfamiliar to her that she ended up coughing. "Hmm," Varhog mused, regarding her with a wry smile. "Maybe you need to practice that rumbling we demonstrated earlier. You're not used to making sounds with your throat and chest, but it's essential in the speaking of Urgralish."

Willow attempted for several minutes without success to reproduce the deep rumbling sounds. "It's hopeless," she cried when she was out of breath. "Arya, do Urgal rams have an extra organ somewhere in their massive chests, some type of rumble box?"

Arya smiled in amusement. "I'm not sure, Willow. We elves haven't had as much opportunity to study the anatomy of Urgals as the other races. It seems likely, however. We were amazed at the veritable symphony of rumbles we overheard every night of our first stay here. Eragon did his best to reproduce them, but his efforts were woefully inadequate." Eragon made an affronted face that quickly dissolved into an accepting grin.

"Varhog's right though," Willow said. "The Urgal children don't make those sounds and they still speak the language, so I'll have to attempt to mimic them rather than a seven foot tall ram with a chest twice as wide as my own." Eragon and Arya nodded in agreement.

"Things are always interesting with you around," Varhog said to Willow. "I love how much you make me laugh."

"It was an art I had to perfect to ensure I could hear the beloved sound over and over," Willow said airily. "And believe me, it _was_ an art. Getting an Urgal ram to laugh is almost harder than bringing him to his knees. I think it comes more easily in time as he becomes acquainted with the pleasure of the expression. Let's hope learning Urgralish comes as easily to a human female with an equally determined mentor."

The Urgralgra gathered in the square were milling about, moving tables into place while females brought dishes of food. Some were starting large bonfires with help from Sunset, who was so much more approachable and friendly than Black Thunder.

Varhog started moving toward the table where his family was gathering. He invited Eragon and Arya, "Come sit with my family. They'll be thrilled to see you again."

Varhog pulled the bench back enough to allow him to sit with Willow still cradled in his arms. Eragon sat next to him with Arya. The children came and sat next to them with excited cries of "Firesword!" and "Auntie Arya!" The two new arrivals welcomed the swarm of children just as delightedly as Willow and Varhog.

"I'm so glad there are so many children here," Arya commented. "I knew I'd miss Roran and Katrina's children the most."

As the feast began, Willow and Arya slid down to sit on the bench so they could pull it closer to the table and allow the children to reach. The celebration was much shorter than Willow's and Varhog's had been, with daylight fast disappearing and the intense cold of night approaching. When the last traces of sunset were visible in the sky, Garzhvog rose and spoke a few words in Urgralish, which Varhog translated with images as best he could.

Garzhvog thanked everyone for their quick preparations and for celebrating with him, Raygog, and Yvenna. He made a touching mention of Willow and her unique ability to spread happiness wherever she went. He then asked the rams to clear away the food and tables so the women could take the children indoors out of the cold and set the example by beginning right then. The conclusion of his brief remarks was met with a hearty cheer before everyone began fulfilling his requests.


	18. Preparing the Bride

18\. Preparing the Bride

"I'm not sure where to have you stay," Varhog said to Eragon and Arya. "The hut you stayed in last time is probably not prepared for a visit. You're welcome to stay at our hut if you want."

"As long as we have a roof over our heads and you don't mind, we'll be happy," Eragon assured him. "The couches in the huts are plenty large enough for us to sleep on. If it's not a problem with the other villagers, is there any way we could build a hut closer to yours? Arya and I would like to be nearer to you, especially when the time comes for Willow's babies to be born. I'd also like to have an excuse to build something with my hands right now, even though it's the middle of the winter. Without using magic, for a change."

"I like the sound of that," Varhog said. "It would be nice for Willow to have neighbors. I'll help you start as soon as you want. Right now Willow is going to be taking part in a special ritual we do called 'Preparing the Bride.' She'll go with my mother and Raygog's new mate to help her wash and dress for their wedding night. I'll stay out here to help clean up. Maybe Arya would be able to go inside with them to get out of the cold."

Myrintuk came over to them. "Firesword! Arya! Welcome back! I'm happy to see you."

"Thank you, Myrintuk," Arya said. "Congratulations on last night! I suspected that you and Garzhvog might have feelings for one another, but I never would have dared say anything. Good thing one of us female Riders is bold enough to speak her mind on occasion. Look what a happy event it led to."

"Truly," Myrintuk agreed. "Willow is as much like a daughter to me as any of my birth daughters. Yvenna asked that she be present for the tradition Varhog just mentioned. Let's see if she objects to your company."

Raygog had been glancing repeatedly in their direction. When a momentary lull in the continual stream of well-wishers allowed for it, Raygog stood and took Yvenna by her hand, guiding her to his mother and saying, "Mother, Willow, I present to you my new mate. Have her ready quickly, please." The customary contests and fighting were being skipped due to the late start of the ceremony and the cold of the night.

Myrintuk said, "She'll be ready in half an hour, son. Come for her then." Raygog gave Yvenna an eager look then turned and strode off in the direction of his hut. "Yvenna, do you mind if Arya comes along? We don't want her to have to wait in the cold while the males clean up."

"Not at all!" Yvenna cried. "It would be an honor. I'll be the first Urgralgra female to ever have an elf and human at my Preparing the Bride ritual. And two Dragon Riders, no less!"

Myrintuk and Willow each took Yvenna by a hand and led her to Myrintuk's hut. When they entered, it was clear Breetuk and Trayin had been busy. Willow hadn't even noticed them leave the dinner, but they had readied a washbasin with steaming water and had all of the other items ready for this important custom. The room was warm with a large fire crackling in the hearth. Because it was relatively clear of tables and benches at that moment and she was thinking about it, Willow noticed the beautiful hearth rug sprawled out before the fireplace. She guessed that Myrintuk and Yarbog, her first mate, must have made it according to tradition.

"I'm so excited!" Yvenna gushed breathlessly as she helped Willow and Myrintuk remove her many layers.

Willow smiled at her newest sister and said, "You should be! Being with the one you love in the way you're about to be is the most marvelous thing imaginable."

"How was your first time?" Yvenna asked curiously. "I heard rumors of strange events, but I'm not sure I should believe them. This feels wonderful!" she finished, slipping into the water with an appreciative sigh.

"My first time was amazing and intense," Willow replied, and as she began washing Yvenna's dark hair, she told the story of her wedding night and the following week. As she concluded, Willow glanced gratefully in Arya's direction. "Thank goodness Arya helped us figure out what was going on and reversed the conclusion of my brain. Everything's better now, and we've more than made up for the time we missed during the worst part of my reaction. It's so powerful, Yvenna. I love everything about it, how completely sensory it is, how close it makes me feel to him, how amazing having a release feels, how it was the way we made these babies. It's perfectly, exquisitely beautiful!"

"That's what I've always been taught to believe all my life," Yvenna said. "I never thought I'd get to be with Raygog this way, though I've wanted to for a couple of years now. He's the only one I've ever been able to imagine having as a mate."

She had finished washing her body and Willow was done with her hair, so Yvenna stood, and Myrintuk handed her a towel to dry with. To Willow, Myrintuk said, "Do you think you could dry her hair like you did yours? I was counting on it, which is why I told Raygog half an hour." Willow nodded, performing the spell and starting to brush Yvenna's long tresses. Myrintuk took a dress from Trayin. As she helped Yvenna begin to step into it she asked, "Do you have any other questions about intimate love, daughter."

Yvenna beamed at her as she slid into the dress. "Yes, mother, but I'm going to ask Willow, if you don't mind. I know you have more experience but thinking of you with father is . . . um . . . still a little strange. I mean, I'm so thrilled for him and you, but I just need some time to process it before I have it spelled out for me in detail. And Willow is closer to my age and her experience is more recent and new, so I feel like she wo—"

Myrintuk cut her off with a laugh and said, "I understand perfectly, Yvenna. Willow will be able to tell you as much if not more than I could. Go ahead."

Yvenna smiled at her gratefully. Willow was performing her other spell on Yvenna's hair, the one that left it curled under in graceful waves. Trayin and Breetuk were listening attentively to the conversation, not far from the time in their lives where such knowledge would come in useful. Trayin set a beautiful hair clip on a table where Willow could reach it when she was ready.

Yvenna unashamedly asked, "What's your favorite position?"

Willow laughed. "Any position where his body is inside of mine." Yvenna laughed too, as did all the others, and Willow then shared all of the knowledge she and Varhog had gained during their many experiments. Yvenna looked completely overwhelmed by the end, and Willow comforted, "You needn't start out like that, if it sounds daunting. As I said at first, any position where he's inside of me is my favorite." She looked at Myrintuk. "Have I missed anything, mother?"

"No, Willow," Myrintuk reassured, smiling. "I've actually been taking a few mental notes, ready to do some experimenting of my own tonight. I can't imagine another human fitting in so well with the Urgralgra. It's thrilling you've found such joy in this expression."

"To say the least," Willow agreed, expertly swirling Yvenna's hair into an elegant twist and securing it with the clip. "When mother and Myrin were helping me get ready, Myrin told me to let my hair down in front of Varhog because he would appreciate it and find it appealing. So I'll give you the same advice."

Willow noticed Yvenna's dress for the first time. It was even more revealing than hers had been—sleeveless with thin straps over the shoulders and a plunging neckline that ended below her breasts, revealing more than half of them. The material was sheer and silky, unambiguously hinting at all of her feminine features beneath. The neckline at the back was non-existent—all of her long, strong back was bare. Willow worried, "Won't she get cold?"

"A winter bride gets to wear the most revealing attire of all," Myrintuk explained as she took another piece of clothing from Breetuk, "for she also wears an elegant cloak to keep her warm and hidden until arriving at her mate's hut." Before putting the cloak around Yvenna, Myrintuk turned her to look in a full-length mirror. "What do you think, daughter?"

Yvenna giggled breathlessly. "It's amazing! Imagining Raygog seeing me in this is amusing. He'll go crazy."

"Yes," Myrintuk agreed. "That's the intent. Why we feel the need to torture our rams, I'll never know. But it's on for such a brief time, I suppose that makes it forgivable. At least he'll have to keep guessing until you get back home." She swept the cloak around Yvenna's shoulders and fastened it at the hollow of her neck with a lovely brooch. The cloak was stunning—pure white with a thick fur lining all around the edge. Myrintuk carefully drew the hood up over her head, and Breetuk brought a pair of dainty boots for Yvenna to step into. "Make sure he carries you," Myrintuk instructed. "So your feet don't get cold and your cloak doesn't drag in the snow." Yvenna nodded excitedly.

"Anything else?" Willow wondered. "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

Yvenna nodded, taking the needed items from the table and quickly performing the job. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Raygog didn't let himself in this time, and after Trayin answered it, Raygog entered. His eyes immediately fell on Yvenna, and he smiled joyfully as she turned to face him.

"You look lovely," Raygog complimented.

"Just wait until you see what's under," Yvenna replied.

"I can't wait," he said. "Can we go, mother?"

"Yes, son. Here's your basket." She handed him a basket similar to the one she had given Varhog. Without being prompted, Raygog lifted Yvenna into his arms, and she kept her own carefully under the cloak so he wouldn't get a premature peek at her.

"Thank you, mother, sisters," Raygog said. "See you . . . sometime."

"It had best not be too soon," Willow said with a knowing grin.

Raygog and Yvenna smiled brightly. "Thank you," they both said at the same time, looking at each other and laughing.

"You're welcome," Willow replied. "Now go. And enjoy yourselves!"

Breetuk and Trayin looked somewhat envious but only in a teasing way. "I suppose we'll stay with Garzhvog's sons at his hut tonight," Trayin said.

"Yes, since Raygog will no longer be lonely at his hut," Breetuk stated, smiling down at her older brother.

"Nope," Raygog agreed, turning to leave at the same moment that the door to the hut once again opened. Garzhvog, Varhog, and Eragon entered, come to find their mates. Eragon went to Arya's side but the other two gave Raygog a meaningful look as he stopped to let them pass. "I get to join your ranks tonight," he said. "I'm so sorry, Varhog, about earlier today and the way I behaved. Will you forgive me?"

Varhog reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, Raygog, I forgive you. Go join our ranks and have a good time. Just be careful. You're not as strong as I am, but you're strong enough and Yvenna's young. You'll be fine. I'm excited for you to experience this."

"Thank you, brother," Raygog said sincerely. Then to the rest, "Good night, everyone!" He stepped out the door, and Varhog closed it behind him.


	19. Winter Traditions

19\. Winter Traditions

Eragon and Arya decided to stay in Varhog's village for some weeks. They frequently scryed Roran to see if the feelings of animosity had softened at all, but the attack was still so raw that the villagers felt the same as they had. Though Roran was very regretful, he informed them each time that he still thought it best for them to stay away.

The day after Varhog's birthday, he and Eragon began building a new hut within walking distance of Varhog's and Willow's. Arya and Willow spent the days warm and snug in Willow's hut, making blankets, sheets, towels, linens, and other needful items for a new home. Their friendship and sisterhood deepened, and Arya used the time to begin teaching Willow about labor and childbirth.

Many of the women in Varhog's family frequently visited them to help. One of the things they showed the two female Riders was how to sew simple baby wraps to hold their babies to their bodies and free up their hands. Willow and Arya were grateful for the knowledge, both knowing that securing their babies in this manner would be a much safer way for them to fly on dragon back.

Though Eragon and Varhog did not speak as much during their more manual labor, their brotherhood also developed, and they appreciated that the nature of the work often took their minds off the trouble presented by Kulkarvek. They sometimes discussed the situation, but there were too many unanswered questions about what kind of a threat he posed to really know how to resolve the dilemma.

All of the Riders were grateful for an excuse to busy their hands, and none of them used magic to speed or simplify their projects, although the dragons made the males' work easier by melting snow and warming them with their flames.

The Riders spent most of their evenings with each other or Varhog's family, and Willow, Eragon, and Arya became more and more comfortable living amongst the Urgralgra. At Willow's request, Varhog's family began speaking Urgralish around her, and he stayed close by her side, translating the many unfamiliar sounds with images. The other two saw an opportunity to learn the language, so Varhog translated for them in the same way. Soon the indecipherable jumble of grunts began to take on meaning for the three, and they came to recognize words and phrases. Willow quickly learned how to say 'How do you say . . . ?' in Urgralish, and the first phrase she understood, besides 'I love you' was 'That means . . .'

-:-:-

One night, about three weeks after Varhog's birthday, when Willow was sixteen weeks pregnant, they were snuggling under their blankets in one another's arms as a raging winter storm howled outside. The storm had prevented any work on the new hut for several days, so Eragon and Arya were in their cozy bed on the front room sofa.

Willow's growing belly pressed into Varhog's side in their comfortable position. He unexpectedly felt a small movement from within her womb and jumped in surprise. "Was that the babies?" Varhog exclaimed.

"Yes," Willow replied, smiling. "They're happy when they can feel how content and relaxed their mother is."

Varhog placed one hand over Willow's abdomen, feeling a small lump push against him. He laughed in amazement and commented, "They're strong."

"Of course," Willow agreed. "Just look at their father."

"Have you felt them before?" Varhog demanded.

"Now that I just felt that, I think so," Willow said. "I wasn't ever sure before because the movements were faint and felt similar to the way certain digestive movements sometimes feel, but now I think I can say that for about a week, I've felt them."

Varhog tossed the blankets aside, shifting around until he was out from under Willow and she was lying on her back, which made her womb protrude straight up. He covered it with both hands, leaning over until his lips were almost touching her skin. Then he began singing one of her favorite Urgralish lullabies.

Varhog saw her skin move in one area as a small hand or foot pressed out. He kept singing but turned his face toward her, lifting his head slightly so his horn wouldn't graze her. He had an awed expression on his face and tears in his eyes.

When he finished his lullaby, Varhog gently rested his face against Willow's skin. "I love you, babies," he whispered, kissing her once before moving back up.

Willow had started to shiver from the cold, so Varhog turned her on her side and lay behind her, surrounding her body with his. He pulled the blankets over them and adjusted the pillows so he would be comfortable on his side. Then he rested his hand on her belly, which seemed even larger when she was relaxed in her current position.

"I'm glad I got to feel that," Varhog whispered. "They're growing so much. You're almost halfway through your pregnancy. I'm excited to meet our babies."

"Me too, Yelloweyes," Willow said. "You'll be a wonderful father. I'm just as excited for that as I am to be a mother."

"Sing to me," he requested.

So she did, choosing a song her father had often sung to her. When she was done, Varhog was ready to sleep.

"I love you, ram of mine," Willow murmured in Urgralish, and they drifted off together, his hand protectively over his babies.

-:-:-

As the days passed, and Varhog and Eragon continued their work on the hut, Willow and Arya spent as much time with Willow's nieces and nephews as they could, learning through play what many Urgralish words meant. Their tones were so much easier for the females to imitate with their human and elven vocal chords.

Willow insisted that Varhog continue helping her with pronunciation when they were alone, and she consequently seemed to pick up the language more quickly than the other Riders. Willow joked it was because she had such personal interaction with a native speaker.

In the evenings, they returned to their hut if they weren't already there and worked on weaving their hearth rug while her lessons in Urgralish continued unabated. Before their hut was finished, Eragon and Arya sat with them and shared many stories from their time together during the war. Willow in particular loved these accounts, since she had been so young during the war and hadn't personally experienced some of it like Varhog had.

With such complete immersion in the language, it wasn't many weeks before Willow began unconsciously communicating in Urgralish, at first haltingly and then with more ease. Through her determined and constant practice, her pronunciation was admirable, and it only continued to improve as she exercised the muscles in her throat and chest to produce the deep, guttural sounds of Varhog's native tongue.

Bruntog's second child—another son—was born during this time. His oldest, young Bruntog, was one of Willow's favorites. Still several months shy of his second birthday, he changed so much as he grew, learning to run and play with the older children and learning to speak his language along with Willow. Willow and Arya were invited to be present for the birth, which they enthusiastically accepted. It was as beautiful as Myrin's birth had been, and their anticipation for the time of their own babies' births only grew.

-:-:-

Many more weeks passed in this easy pattern of work and play in the Urgal village. After about two months of building, the males finished the new hut, and the two couples worked together on the final touches.

Arya commented that it felt more like a home to her than anywhere else since Eragon had built it with his own hands and it was the first place of their own. The two male Riders had fitted the hut with amenities similar to those found on the Isle and Ellesméra, making the same improvements to Willow's and Varhog's hut. These consisted mainly of installing a toilet and running water.

Though Eragon and Arya now spent the nights in their own hut, the four Riders still spent most of the days together, enjoying greater proficiency in the Urgralish tongue and the noticeable advancement of the women's pregnancies.

The weather was finally starting to clear, with the promise of an early spring following the early winter, when Hanin scryed Eragon to update them on events in Ellesméra and to discuss their plans for further travel.

After some time sharing what each party had been busy with, Eragon told Hanin, "Arya is now thirty weeks pregnant, by her estimation, which I'm sure is exactly accurate, and we feel we should take advantage of this lull in the weather to fly for Ellesméra."

Hanin could see both Willow and Arya through the scrying mirror. "Your pregnant bellies are so beautiful," he said. "I'm excited to see you two again. It will be nice to see you, Eragon and Varhog, but you're nothing special." Then he laughed. "So Willow arranged two impossible-seeming weddings? Maybe you'll be able to work your magic here."

"What do you mean, Hanin?" Willow demanded.

"Nothing," Hanin insisted.

"I'm not letting you off the hook like that," Willow warned.

"If you must know, it's Rhunön," Hanin joked. "She has found this ancient beau, but he doesn't know how to draw her away from her anvil and forge."

"Hanin!" Willow cried. "You're as bad as Murtagh! I miss him too. I'm so glad Eragon and Arya have been here these past couple months. The only one I really need is Varhog, but having all you others around makes it feel more like home on the Isle."

"I know exactly what you mean, Willow," Hanin agreed. "It will be wonderful to have you four come here for a time. You'll see what I mean when you arrive, Willow," he then promised. "It will be perfectly obvious to one with your abilities."

"Very well," Willow reluctantly agreed. "I'll let myself be satisfied with that for now, but only because I know we'll be there soon. Right, Arya?"

Arya said, "I expect the baby to be born by the end of the next ten weeks. We've learned from Eragon's cousin Roran that a brief visit to Carvahall before we start for Ellesméra will most likely not cause any trouble, and both Willow and I will appreciate being able to sleep in a bed as much as we can during our travels. From Carvahall, we expect it will take around a week to reach Ellesméra, though that's based on estimates of when Eragon traveled the distance over ten years ago and Saphira was much smaller. Though I feel marvelous, the increased strain on my back and the discomfort of sitting for long periods may warrant more frequent stops than a single male had to make. So it may actually take longer."

"So you might arrive within ten days to two weeks?" Hanin said.

"That sounds about right," Eragon said. "We'll take our time. Arya's and Willow's comfort is our primary concern. We're leaving in plenty of time to arrive before the baby will be born so our travels won't be rushed."

"When do you think you'll leave?" Hanin asked.

"Within the next few days, if possible," Arya replied. "We're prepared to leave Varhog's village as early as tomorrow. The flight to Carvahall only took us a day before, but we've discussed stopping in Therinsford if we don't make the trip as quickly this time." She looked at her three companions. "Should we leave tomorrow?"

"Fine with me," Eragon said.

"Me too!" Willow cried, and Varhog nodded his agreement.

"Very well," Arya said. "We'll leave for Carvahall tomorrow morning and only stay a day or two before continuing on to Ellesméra. It's safe to say you should see us within two weeks. If you don't, scry us to make sure King Kulkarvek hasn't ambushed us."

Hanin laughed uncertainly. "Let's hope not," he said in concern. Then, with a return of his good cheer, he added, "Well, splendid! I'll make a countdown right now!"

Willow laughed. "See you soon, brother. Say hello to Maehrí for us."

"I will," Hanin promised. "She'll be excited too. She has been anxious for a change of scenery. She's growing tired of me."

"I doubt it," Willow said. "But I know you're not going to elaborate right now. Take care until we meet again in person."

"You too. Goodbye, my friends." Hanin ended his spell, and the four Riders looked around at one another.

"I want to say goodbye to Varhog's family right now," Willow declared. "Then we won't disturb the children with an early morning call and can focus the rest of the day on preparing to leave. We may spend some time with some of them, so you two needn't come if you have other things to do."

"I'd like to say farewell," Arya said. "But I'm sure they won't care as much that we're leaving as you two. I'm feeling somewhat weary so maybe we can make a brief call to Myrintuk and Myrin later this afternoon. We've grown closest with them."

"Knowing them, they'll just plan a big family dinner to see us off," Varhog said. "But if they don't, we'll let them know they can see you this afternoon. They'll want to say goodbye, Arya. They love you two as much as they do Willow, and she's more a part of the family than I am." He chuckled as he stood to go.

-:-:-

As Varhog and Willow left Eragon and Arya's hut, several of Willow's wolves—who had been frequent companions during their outdoor play—padded out of the trees and approached them. Steel came right up to her, and she placed her hand on his neck as they walked.

"Hello, Steel," Willow said amiably. "You came at a good time. My mate and I are once again leaving, this time for another several turns of the moon." She stopped as Boldclaw nudged her from behind. She would have sidled in on Willow's other side, but Varhog was there, and he didn't budge.

"Boldclaw, look how you're growing!" Willow exclaimed as the female instead pushed _her_ mate out of the way so she could be by Willow's side. "Your cubs will be born in the spring. The time is upon us! When next we return, I'll get to meet them. We expect to return here before _my_ cubs are due so they can be born with our family around." Boldclaw pressed her wet nose into Willow's cheek, and Willow laughed. "I'll miss you, my friends," she said sincerely. "Take care of yourselves and look out for the children as they play in the woods. Now that you're no longer a threat to them, you can protect them from the other dangers that lurk in the forest."

The wolves regarded her with their intelligent eyes, showing her they understood and would do as she wished. They continued on with Willow and Varhog until they came to the village. The wolves stopped at the edge of the trees as the other two continued on. Willow and Varhog made their usual rounds, starting with the nearest hut of one of their family members. Myrin and Tarhvek were second to last.

"We'll miss you!" Myrin declared when they explained the reason for their early visit. "You'll return here before your babies are born, right?"

"Yes, that's the current plan," Willow said, speaking Urgralish as comfortably as if it were her native language. "I have about five more months, though Arya once told me there's a chance they'll be born before full term since there are two. I expect we'll spend at least a month in Ellesméra, and I'd dearly love to return to the Isle for a brief time to see the Riders who stayed behind. But so much time would be used up in flying, and I can only imagine how much less comfortable that will get as these babies continue to grow. Already I'm as large as Arya and she's only ten weeks from her time. The biggest growth is yet to even happen. Even if we have to forgo the trip to the Isle, I'll make sure we're here while they're still inside. I'll need everyone's help!"

Varhog was holding baby Varhog, who was now a chubby young lad of four months. The baby was giggling in a delightful way as Varhog used his chin to tickle his tummy. "You'll always have my help no matter where we are, Eartheyes," he reminded her.

"Yes, sweetheart," Willow said, "and I know that might very well be all I need with how attentive you are." She knelt down where she was, for her two nieces were pulling on her legs, and hugged them both tightly. "I'll miss you so much, Myrek and Rinna," she said. The two girls patted her belly, which stuck out even more in her new position.

"Your babies are getting bigger," Myrek said sweetly. "I hope they're daughters. I'll help you too, Aunt Willow."

"I know, Myrek. You'll be an amazing help, just as you are to your mother. Will you be sad if they're sons?"

"No, auntie. I'll be happy no matter what."

"So will I," Willow said, watching adoringly as Varhog played with the baby. "Though I secretly hope they're sons. Their father is so handsome, and I'm sure they'd look just the same if they were males."

"If that's the reasoning, then they ought to be daughters," Varhog returned, looking at her with an affectionate smile. "I can't imagine anything more wonderful than two tiny Willows, growing up to look more and more like their beautiful mother."

Myrin laughed at their exchange. "Didn't you once tell me that you might be able to determine their sex before they're born?" she asked Willow.

"I think we could, but I don't want to," Willow said. "I love the idea of being surprised. As soon as one comes out, we'll know the other is the same, but that moment fills me with such anticipation."

They stayed at Myrin and Tarhvek's longer than they originally planned. Tarhvek was out hunting, so Willow helped Myrin with the housework she had been busy with while Varhog played with the children.

As they washed laundry, Myrin said, "Willow, I'm extremely impressed at how well you've learned our language. You speak almost as if you were born here. I think it'd be exactly the same, if not for the differences in your build and size."

"Thank you, Myrin," Willow said. "I was determined, and Varhog was an extremely patient teacher, just as he has always been. It seemed important to me. I especially wanted to understand the children, since they use the language when they're all together. Having Varhog translate all of the different thoughts and words at once got very confusing. And it may be that speaking Urgralish comes in handy at some future point. If nothing else, I feel more a part of my husband's people than ever before, which is enough."

After a few more minutes, Willow said, "I have need of your expertise, sister."

Myrin smiled. "Ask away, Willow. What is it?"

"My belly is already large, but it has not yet proved an insurmountable obstacle for me and Varhog during our intimate exchanges. Once it gets bigger, I want to be prepared with alternative positions. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Many, sister," Myrin said with an indulgent laugh. She glanced at Varhog to make sure the children were busily engaged. They were, though _he_ was listening carefully, so Myrin shared several ideas she and Tarhvek had learned during the course of their marriage and her four pregnancies.

Once she was done, Willow laughed gratefully. "Thank you, Myrin. I knew I could count on you." They had finished washing and wringing out the laundry. Willow said to Varhog, "Shall we stay until Tarhvek returns? He might not care as much about saying goodbye and we have a lot to do."

Myrin said, "Please stay. He'll want to say goodbye. I know as a ram he doesn't show his feelings as much, but he loves you two. He left very early and went with Garzhvog. They should be back soon. Have you already been by mother's?"

"Aye," Varhog replied. "She was disappointed Garzhvog wasn't home. She thought he would also want to say goodbye since he's so fond of Willow. If we wait for Tarhvek, we'll be able to stop back by after seeing Raygog and Yvenna. I don't mind staying a while longer. I could play with the children all day."

Young Tarhvek, who was sitting in his lap, suddenly butted his head into Varhog's chest, and Varhog did just what he knew Tarhvek was expecting by falling back and carefully grappling with the small boy. He fell still after a few minutes and gasped in unnecessarily deep breaths, pretending the young fellow had exhausted him. Tarhvek giggled and pounded his small fists against his uncle in victory. After keeping up his pretense for several minutes and as soon as Tarhvek let down his guard, Varhog grabbed him and started tickling him, which earned him many gratifying squeals. The two girls wanted to be a part of this, so they jumped on their huge uncle and he wrapped them all in his long arms, tickling little tummies and underarms as he came across them.

Willow smiled lovingly at his antics. He was always this way whenever any of his nieces or nephews were around, playing with them as long as they wanted and knowing just when to stop before they got overstimulated. Varhog paused right then, as it seemed that moment had arrived for Rinna. She lay gasping against his shoulder, and he loosened his already gentle hold so she could squirm away. But Myrek and Tarhvek begged for more, so Varhog carried on mildly until they had also had enough.

Varhog let them go, and they disappeared into the back of the hut. They quickly returned with a bin full of wooden blocks. Myrek dumped them all out, and Varhog began building towers, forts, and all sorts of structures at the children's urging, patiently letting them destroy all of his efforts and rebuilding them once again, only to have them meet the same fate.

Willow continued to watch him as much as possible as she helped Myrin prepare a midmorning snack for the children. When the baby started to fuss, Willow carried on by herself as Myrin scooped him up and sat on the sofa to nurse him. Willow busied herself in the kitchen, washing dishes from breakfast and humming to herself.

When the children declared they were hungry, Willow helped them all to the table and set out their snack. As they were eating, Varhog cleaned up the blocks by returning them to their bin. Just then, the door opened, and Tarhvek strode through. He stopped when he noticed the visitors.

"Hello," Tarhvek greeted, kicking off his boots and removing his cloak. "It's nice to see you here so early. What's the occasion?"

"We came to say farewell," Varhog replied, standing now that his task was complete. "Willow and I and the other two Dragon Riders will be leaving at dawn. We're flying back to Carvahall then on to Ellesméra. We'll be gone for at least a couple of months."

"I'm sad to see you go but knew the time would come," Tarhvek said. "Have you been waiting long for me to return?"

"About an hour," Varhog replied. At Tarhvek's apologetic look, he reassured, "Never fear. It was time most enjoyably spent. Your children are delightful."

"Thank you," Tarhvek said, and he chuckled as his children left their snack and congregated around him with excited exclamations of "Father!" and "Dada!" He knelt so he could feel their eager embraces around his neck, smiling warmly. "They _are_ quite wonderful, aren't they?" he said to Varhog. To his children he said, "Hello, children. I missed you. Were you good for your mother?"

"Yes, father," Rinna cried. "Myrek helped Varhog go potty, and I played with him while mother made breakfast. I kept Tarhvek from sitting on him." She said the last with a proud smile, and Tarhvek kissed her forehead.

"Good girl," he approved. Then he picked up young Tarhvek as he stood and said, "You must be gentle with your baby brother, son. He'll grow up to be big and strong, and you'll want him as your friend not your enemy." Though the boy didn't say anything, he nodded solemnly as if he understood and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Tarhvek chuckled again, obviously drinking in the joy of his children's welcome. "You have this to look forward to," he said to Varhog. "It's the best thing in the world."

"So it appears," Varhog said.

Myrin was watching the whole exchange from the sofa, holding the now-sleeping baby in her arms. "Hello, love," she said when Tarhvek looked at her.

"Hello, beautiful," he replied. "I brought home a deer. It should provide meat for some weeks, and the hide will be useful."

"Thank you," Myrin said as she arose and crossed the room to wrap one arm around him. Tarhvek did the same with her.

With a child in one arm and his mate in the other, Tarhvek looked at Willow and Varhog and said, "Thank for waiting until I returned. I'm glad I got to say goodbye. And thank you for helping Myrin and playing with the children. We'll anxiously await your return."

Tarhvek set down his squirming son and released Myrin, who expertly slid the baby into a wrap around her body, where he would be held in place for the remainder of his nap. Willow stepped to Tarhvek and gave him a tight hug. "Thank you for your example. I love watching your beautiful family." She moved back, and Varhog placed a hand on Tarhvek's shoulder.

"What she said," he joked. "We'll miss you, brother." Tarhvek returned the gesture before walking farther into the hut.

As Willow donned her cloak and pulled on her boots, she said, "If you happen not to use all of the deer, I'm sure the wolves would appreciate any organs or innards." Tarhvek nodded. "I'll let them know to check near the edge of the woods," Willow finished, allowing Varhog to usher her out the door in front of him.

They walked hand in hand to Raygog's and Yvenna's hut, moving swiftly and determined to make this visit briefer than the previous one. A few moments after Varhog knocked, Raygog answered the door wearing only his pants.

"Varhog, Willow!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here this morning?"

"Sorry if we interrupted you," Varhog said with a knowing grin. "Willow and I are leaving in the morning for Carvahall and then Ellesméra. We wanted to make our farewell visits early before we pack and prepare to leave."

"Come in," Raygog said. "I'll go get Yvenna. And my shirt." He grinned the same way Varhog had and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

After a few minutes, Yvenna emerged with Raygog following behind. She went straight to Willow and gave her a warm hug. "Raygog told me you're leaving," she said next to Willow's cheek. "I'm so sad to hear that. You'll return before your babies are due, right?"

"Yes, Yvenna," Willow said.

"Well, we didn't mean to tell anyone for a little while longer, but since you're now leaving, I want to share it with you. We just discovered that I too am expecting a child. I'm only a few weeks along. The baby will be due in the fall, not long after your anniversary."

Willow initiated the hug this time. "That's so exciting, Yvenna! Thank you for sharing. So many babies are always being born in a family this large. I love it!" She looked up at Raygog. "Congratulations, Raygog! How do you feel about this?"

"I'm thrilled," he replied. "Seeing all my brothers as fathers makes me want to be one too. It seems that nothing brings greater joy than a happy mate and a hut full of lively cubs. Though I'm also a little intimidated. I'll become a father for the first time only a few months after my older brother here, and he's a decade my senior."

"You'll do a fine job, Raygog," Varhog reassured. "I was old by Urgralish standards when I took my mate. Yarbog was your same age when he took a mate and became a father. We'll learn together, I suppose. We just came from Myrin's. We have some fine examples. Those children love Tarhvek."

Raygog nodded. "Well, be safe in your travels and be careful in Carvahall. Take care of Willow." He grabbed Willow in a brotherly embrace, lifting her a little off the ground. "I'll always be grateful to you, Nar Willow," he said earnestly, setting her down and doing the same with Varhog, though he didn't attempt to lift his brother. "And I'll always be grateful to you for being crazy and falling in love with a human," Raygog joked. "We needed her."

"There had to be a first," Willow replied lightly. "The first human to marry an Urgal and to learn Urgralish. Might come in handy sometime."

"Like when you lead us into battle," Raygog quipped. "We'd all still follow you, Willow. All of the fighting rams are loyal to you and those in this family even more so."

"I'll keep that in mind, though I have a difficult time imagining such a scenario," Willow laughed. She gave Yvenna another hug, then Varhog did, and they were on their way.

They quickly returned to Myrintuk's hut and found Garzhvog outside, skinning a huge buck. He jumped up when he noticed them approaching and boomed, "I'm glad you came! I was determined to chase you down when I noticed you pass if you didn't make your way here." He bent to swish his blood-covered hands in a pail of water, and then, with hands still dripping, crushed Willow into a tight embrace, which he maintained for nearly a minute before she gasped that she couldn't breathe.

Garzhvog chuckled as he loosened his arms, and she savored his affectionate gesture. "I'll miss you, Willow," he said tenderly. "I never would have expected to feel so caring and protective toward a small human girl, but I owe you everything. My life was all but over, and now it is meaningful once more. I'll always admire your courage and honesty and be grateful you helped me realize I could do what I did. Even huge Kull warriors are sometimes fearful, especially in matters of the heart." Myrintuk had heard his loud greeting and came out of the hut to see her children off. She regarded him lovingly as he made his final confession.

"I suppose we could thank _you_ for everything," Willow demurred. "You're the main reason Eragon came to feel the way he did toward the Urgralgra. He has told me about it during the stories he and Arya shared of the war. If not for his time spent with you, it's doubtful he would have ever considered including your race in the pact with the dragons, and if that hadn't happened, Varhog and I never would have met. So, well done, father. You may not realize it, but your willingness to change and to encourage enough change in your race to facilitate their peaceful coexistence with the other races of the land is also most admirable."

Garzhvog pulled Willow back enough to look down at her. His eyes were kind but also strangely worried. "Now if we could only encourage the same peaceful coexistence within our _own_ race," he said. "All that has happened with King Kulkarvek is very troubling. Be careful in Carvahall. You won't be staying long, right?"

"No, not long," Varhog assured him. "Probably only overnight."

"Is the Delvhtuk clan your native tribe, Myrintuk?" Willow wondered, remembering what Myrintuk had told her the day they had first met.

"Yes, Willow," Myrintuk answered sadly. "I do hail from the Delvhtuk tribe. And King Kulkarvek is my father."

"Really!" Willow and Varhog cried at the same time.

"Mother, you never told us that!" Varhog said in astonishment. "That might have been good to know when I went for the Rider Choosing Ceremony and ended up having to meet the king. What if he had recognized me and I had no clue?"

"Before then there was no need," Myrintuk said. "He disowned me when I met and married your sire. When you went, Varhog, I worried, but I hoped you would pass unrecognized, if indeed you were chosen. The chances were so slim that I thought it best not to concern you. You don't look as much like your father as Yarbog does, but he had already taken his mate. And your name is generic enough. There are plenty of 'og' names from the Tintog clan, so I just left things to chance and thankfully, he didn't notice.

"As you might have guessed from his name, Willow, Kulkarvek was not natively of the Delvhtuk clan but actually from this very tribe, even the Bolvek tribe. Of the Urgralish clans, ours is a gentler one, and he never could abide that growing up. He sought all of the glory, brutality, and gore of battle, and so he abandoned his tribe and found acceptance in the barrows of Anghelm. He had an aptitude for magic, so he accelerated his growth. As a Kull, he was already massive, but he made himself grow to ten feet tall before he stopped. He can fight like no one else you've ever seen, since he can anticipate the moves of his foe, much as you and Varhog do. That's how he came to be king—he can defeat every other war chief. Were someone ever able to triumph over him, they would—according to our customs—become rightful ruler of the Urgralgra. I just can't picture it happening, however. Though he is now elderly, he's still immensely strong and quick and able to fight just as well as in his prime."

Myrintuk shook her head. "But he is cruel and coldhearted. My mother, who was also Kull, died only a couple of years after I was born, and he was devastated. He blamed me, though I'm not sure why. I was named after her. She was no doubt another strong motivator for him to stay with the Delvhtuk clan. Though our relationship was not caring, he saw her in me and had some affection for me, I believe, at least until I fell in love with Yarbog when he visited with his sire for a war council. Yarbog's and Garzhvog's sire was war chief of our tribe before Garzhvog. I was smitten with Yarbog, and he treated me with such kindness as I had never known from a ram. I abandoned my tribe to become his mate. My father renounced me and has never cared the slightest bit for my life since then. That he grows restless and is ordering his rams to perpetrate such atrocities as they did in Carvahall against unarmed, helpless opponents is most troubling. I fear it might wreak havoc on all Firesword has attempted over the past years." She sighed.

"We've been discussing the situation ever since the attack in Carvahall, mother," Varhog assured her. "Firesword has worked so hard to ensure that the Urgralgra have a chance to remain in this land. The Riders won't allow all of that to be for nothing."

Myrintuk nodded and gave them both a hug, and Varhog respectfully bashed his forehead toward Garzhvog. "We'd best be on our way," Varhog said regretfully. "We'll miss you, mother. Father. We'll return before our babies are born and be here for that. And Firesword and Arya planned to stop by sometime later this afternoon to say farewell. We'll be leaving early in the morning and didn't want to disturb anyone. Take care in our absence."

Myrintuk nodded with tears in her eyes. "I'll miss you too, son. And you, daughter of mine. But the sadness is bearable now that the empty hole in my heart is filled. I can endure this separation with anticipation for the time when we'll be reunited. Now I really won't be alone, though I was always surrounded by children and grandchildren." Garzhvog put his arm around her, and they waved as Varhog and Willow turned to go.


	20. Uneasy

20\. Uneasy

By the next evening, the four Dragon Riders were safely in Carvahall, having not found it needful to stay in Therinsford. So the four dragons would not be together in Carvahall, Fírnen and Black Thunder had flown on ahead to the peaks nestled within the forest north of Lake Isenstar. The Riders only planned to stay one full day, but they wanted to reduce the risk of aggravating King Kulkarvek as much as possible. They would meet up with the male dragons after staying a night in Ceunon.

After dusk, the female dragons landed with their Riders on the hill behind the castle so their arrival would be less conspicuous. Roran and his family came out to meet them and after the Riders entered the castle, Saphira and Sunset quietly jumped over the wall, walking some distance into the trees to stay out of sight.

The Riders dined with Roran's family that evening, and after they finished eating, they moved to a comfortable sitting area and visited for a time. As the four Riders played with the children and Katrina fed her daughter, she asked Arya, "Has your baby been very active? It seems this time of pregnancy is when they're able to move the most. Certainly Eragon has been able to see the baby's movements under your skin."

"Yes," Arya answered, "most definitely. Eragon first felt the baby move the night before we left here a couple of months ago, and it has only gotten more active since then. He loves that it seems to move the most just as I attempt to settle down for the night. The swaying of my movements all day must lull it into a peaceful slumber, but when I relax, it can stretch out and do some moving of its own. Eragon will talk and sing to it, and the baby perks right up, reaching for him with small hands and feet. It's so endearing."

Katrina laughed as Willow contributed, "That's just what ours seem to do whenever Varhog talks or sings to them. It's the sweetest thing."

Katrina then questioned, "Have you decided where you want to be when your baby is born?"

"We've given it some thought," Arya said. "If it takes us a week or a little longer to reach Ellesméra and we stay there a month, we'll only have about another month before the baby is due. We've discussed visiting the eastern Du Weldenvarden and Ellei-an's meadow, but it would be another week to fly there and that at nearly full-term. I haven't flown almost all winter and based off of today, I already know I'll get saddle sore much more quickly than I used to."

"Ellei-an's meadow," Willow repeated. "What a lovely idea. Perhaps we'll learn something to explain Angela's mystery if another baby of an interracial couple is born in the same location."

"That's what we thought," Arya agreed. "It somehow seems fitting to have the baby in the meadow, and the weather should be warm enough. I just don't know how everyone would be there who has said they want to. I suppose Angela means to continue traveling with us wherever we go. Has she shown up here, Roran?"

"Yes, just this morning she turned up after being gone all the months you were," Roran replied. "How she knew you all were coming is beyond me."

"No one will ever understand all of her mysteries," Eragon said with a chuckle. "That's good. We should tell her to use her method of travel to move on ahead to Ceunon since we only flew on the two dragons."

"Let's fly together, darling," Arya insisted. "I'll ask Fírnen to come here sometime in the early dawn hours of the day after tomorrow, and we'll leave before first light. No one will ever be the wiser that three dragons were here."

"If that's what you want," Eragon said. "So that would leave Murtagh and Nasuada as the final two who wanted to be there when our baby is born. And Elva, but she'll come with them. We could scry them, but with a long journey themselves, I hardly know how we'd line it all up for them to be there in time without having to wait unnecessarily for your labor to begin."

"We'll figure it all out," Arya said confidently.

"I'm sure we will," Eragon agreed. "So no more attacks since the last one?" he then asked Roran.

"No. Not even a whisper of aggression," Roran said.

Varhog said, "That's comforting. When we were saying goodbye to my mother and Nar Garzhvog yesterday, we found out that King Kulkarvek is my grandfather. My mother is his only daughter."

"Really?" Eragon said. "I guess that explains her intimate knowledge of his character. I thought it interesting she knew so much about him when we discussed the situation with Nasuada and Garzhvog last fall. She once asked Garzhvog not to reveal something he began to say. Perhaps it was this."

"Most likely," Varhog said. "She told us he's ten feet tall and can still fight as if in his prime. He made himself king because he could defeat every war chief of every Urgralgra clan."

"Apparently she shares Garzhvog's opinion that none can stand against him in battle," Eragon mused. "I fail to see how he could stand against a dragon, however. Especially one protected by wards and with a Dragon Rider by its side. There must be more to him than meets the eye." He and Varhog had often discussed this very conundrum during the weeks they had spent building Eragon's hut, but no matter how many times they had pondered the situation, they never gained any new insight into how to defeat Kulkarvek.

"I still wish we knew more about him," Varhog said. "Knowing he's my grandfather does very little to help us. We need to know how strong he is with magic. Why is he so old? Why does he hate Dragon Riders so much? I hope Grintuk will be able to learn something at this next Choosing Ceremony. And I hope his father was correct in assuming that Grintuk will not be in danger, since he is from the king's clan. Although we learned that Kulkarvek is not originally of the Delvhtuk tribe, but the Bolvek tribe, as the suffix in his name reveals."

"Interesting," Eragon mused. "Why did your mother leave?"

"To marry my sire," Varhog replied. "I don't understand why Kulkarvek was so opposed to it when my father was from his native clan."

"So many mysteries," Willow murmured wearily. "Can we retire now, Varhog? I'm utterly exhausted from the long flight today."

"So am I," Arya agreed.

"Will you stay tomorrow?" Roran asked.

"If you think it won't cause any problems," Eragon said. "We'll stay only one day and remain in the castle so Arya and Willow can rest. We'll leave before first light the next morning."

"That should be fine," Roran said. "I'm sorry, Eragon. I wish you didn't have to hide away like fugitives."

"I'd rather see you than anyone, Roran," Eragon reassured him. "I can understand why the townspeople feel as they do. We'll lay low and not cause you any more trouble."

Roran nodded gratefully, and the two male Riders carried their weary wives to the quarters where they had stayed during their previous visit.

-:-:-

The following day passed as expected. The women rested and visited while the men played with the children and discussed the frustrating situation presented by King Kulkarvek. That night Eragon and Arya returned to their room to pack what little they had used during the day in preparation for their early departure the next morning.

When they were settled in bed, Eragon enjoyed his favorite time of day. With Arya snuggled next to his side, he could feel his baby moving against his abdomen. "It's really dancing tonight, isn't it?" he said with a soft laugh.

"Mm-hmm," Arya murmured. "Sorry I'm so sleepy, darling."

"I'm not surprised," Eragon said, chuckling. "You were particularly energetic earlier."

Her laugh was more of a deep exhale against his chest. Eragon looked away from her belly to her face and realized she was already asleep. He didn't feel tired, so he stared into the flames of the low fire still burning in the fireplace.

The mesmerizing flickering quickly lulled Eragon into his waking dreams, and he subconsciously realized he was more tired than he thought. His dreams were strange that night, dominated by colors. The first were the main two from the fire. The cheerful oranges and yellows swirled around them as he and Arya happily played with their baby—a daughter who looked like Arya, with shining black hair and sparkling green eyes, just as Eragon always pictured her.

After an indefinite time, the colors in his dreams shifted somewhat, and the less abundant blue of the flames grew, expanding to fill his whole field of vision until he recognized that he was flying with Saphira over the ocean under a sapphire blue sky. The true exhilaration of flying made its way into his subconscious experience, and Eragon felt the wind whipping through his hair. He realized he hadn't flown by himself with Saphira for a long while and felt a pang of longing to once again take to the skies with his old friend.

A stain of red began to spread like blood through water into the overwhelming blue of his dream, and Eragon abruptly woke up. He immediately reached for Saphira through their link and was relieved to find her completely safe and sound. She and Sunset were sleeping together in the forest, not far from the wall surrounding Carvahall. They had hunted together that day in preparation for the journey to Ellesméra.

But the startling image of blood in his dream had left Eragon uneasy. The fire had burned out as the night had deepened, so the room was much darker than when he had fallen into his waking dreams. Arya was still snuggled tightly in his arms, as was nearly always the case. Since their rest was lighter, they both liked touching while sleeping, appreciating the reassurance of feeling one another's presence.

But Eragon couldn't lie still, and he didn't want to disturb Arya by fidgeting around in the bed, so he carefully shifted, moving her onto the warm area under his body so he could get up. He silently pulled on his pants and crossed to the window. The dim light of the moon shone through, giving him enough light to see by as he gazed out in the direction he thought Saphira was and tried to shake the disconcerting feeling that continued to nag him.

After a time, Eragon began to feel cold. He looked back over at Arya, knowing she would soon awaken without him beside her. He returned to the bed and lay behind her, resting his arm over her body and surrounding her with his legs. With his face against her hair, Eragon enjoyed her distinctive scent of fresh pine needles, and he breathed deeply, forcing himself to relax with each exhalation. Before long his waking dreams found him again, and they were composed mainly of the deep green of pine needles and the sparkling green of Arya's eyes.

-:-:-:-


	21. Enemy

21\. Enemy

The king moved as silently and swiftly as the wind through the forest toward Carvahall. He had learned earlier that day through a one-way scrying spell of the Urgal traitors that the Dragon Riders had returned. He didn't care that there were only two dragons this time, and they certainly hadn't flown anywhere near Anghelm in that brief time. But the blue one belonging to the human called Firesword was there, which was all that mattered.

After his rams had returned from the most recent attack, Kulkarvek had been furious to learn that the insolent human drajl had dared threaten him, the mighty king of the Urgralgra. No human would ever defy him again. The first human Dragon Rider whom he had hated beyond expression had ensured that would be the case.

The king would have dealt with Firesword sooner if the coward hadn't flown away only two days later. And why hadn't Kulkarvek just run to the village near Lake Fläm, where the accursed Garzhvog ruled as war chief? Kulkarvek had often wondered why, and he finally admitted the truth to himself. Because _she_ was there—his only daughter. And though he despised the ram who had taken Myrintuk away from him, the king now regretted his harshness in denouncing her. Yes, Myrintuk was the reason he had not crushed the traitorous clan working so hard to undo all the good Kulkarvek had established during his reign.

Kulkarvek sometimes scryed Myrintuk. All he knew was that she had been sad for many years and was more recently happier again. He guessed she had many children, but he had never met them, so he couldn't see them when he scryed her.

Kulkarvek pushed thoughts of his daughter out of his mind. His task tonight was simple—strike at the human Rider by attacking his bonded dragon. The king knew how painful such a loss was and that it would do more harm than simply killing the Rider himself. Kulkarvek had profoundly intimate experience of how devastating it was to lose one you loved more than your own life.

The first dragon Kulkarvek had killed died from an arrow wound in its heart, and he guessed the blue dragon—his target tonight—had many wards protecting her. But he no longer needed weapons and was almost certain she wouldn't be protected against the kind of attack he had in mind. And he knew her Rider wasn't with her, not that it would make a difference. The dragons were trying to remain hidden. The traitors only knew of them because the beasts were staying outside the city wall.

Kulkarvek reached his destination quickly, running more swiftly than the elves with his enormous height, strength, and endless stamina. He slowed as he neared the location where the two dragons slept, feeling their presence with his mind. Once he had identified their position, he ended the contact so as not to alert them.

He cast the spell that would render him invisible and crept silently through the trees until the dragons were within sight, the light from the moon aiding his yellow eyes in seeing his target. He wondered which Rider the pink dragon belonged to. Not one of the Urgralgra. Their dragons had been first black and then gold. The color seemed feminine. Maybe the dragon was bonded to another human scum. Kulkarvek didn't care. The time would come for him to eradicate dragons, Riders, and humans from Alagaёsia, but that time was not now.

He would fulfill his purpose to show the human male that the Urgal king was not a force to be trifled with. Perhaps Kulkarvek would be lucky and this Dragon Rider would also go insane.

Kulkarvek moved forward until he was standing right by the outstretched neck of the sparkling blue beast. In the moonlight, her scales glittered like sapphires. _Disgusting creatures,_ he thought to himself, bending his knees until he was in a low squat. Even if his next movement awakened the beasts, it would be too late. He coiled his muscles, jumping straight up and forward only enough that his full thousand pound body landed on the dragon's neck.

The satisfying crunch under his boots reassured him that his earlier guess had been accurate. She might have been protected from swords, arrows, and all manner of other weapons, but not the huge feet of a furious Urgralgra king. The dragon's neck was crushed under his crippling weight, and the king leaped away as the beast let out an agonized roar and began to convulse in her fight for air.

The king unloosed a maniacal laugh, walking slowly away as the pink-orange dragon lit up the night with a river of flames in his direction. The fire engulfed Kulkarvek, but he only laughed louder, for it caused him no harm as it surrounded his body, revealing the shape of his invisible form.

-:-:-

Eragon thrashed awake with his hands to his throat and was running before he knew why. Then he knew. _Saphira!_ he screamed. _No! Saphira!_

He was out the door and down the hall to Willow's and Varhog's room before Arya was even aware he had left. Her anxious voice was then in his mind. _Eragon! What's happening?_

 _Saphira's dying,_ Eragon replied shortly, blocking further communication from Arya so he could focus. He pushed open the door to Willow's room and was by their bed in the same second, vaguely grateful he had put on his pants the first time he had awakened, otherwise he would be completely naked without even caring.

His only coherent thoughts were of Saphira and the agonized pain she was feeling. Eragon knew he only had minutes, if that, before she suffocated, and Willow was his best hope of healing the injury.

Eragon scooped up the sleeping Willow and had almost lifted her out of the bed when Varhog's deep voice reached his frenzied mind, his vice-like grip closing around his arm. "Firesword," he demanded. "What are you doing?"

"Let go!" Eragon shouted. "It's Saphira! She's dying! Somehow her throat has been crushed and she's suffocating. Willow's healed an injury like this at least three time. I need her, Varhog! Let go!"

"She's naked, Firesword," Varhog said in a dangerous tone. "I won't allow you to take her like this."

"Varhog!" Eragon cried in panic. "I've seen her this way before. I wouldn't have even noticed. Saphira's _dying_!"

"Let him go, Varhog," Willow pleaded, awakened by the struggle and shouting. "Bring me some clothes. I'll keep the blanket around me. Please, sweetheart. We can't delay!"

Varhog reluctantly released Eragon's arm, and Eragon was immediately running again, Willow in his arms. Tears streamed down his face, and his breathing was strained, though he wasn't winded from exertion. Saphira's injury was affecting him through their link. In a strangled voice Eragon choked, "Sorry, sister. Saphira . . ."

"Don't apologize, Eragon," Willow insisted. "Don't worry about my comfort. Get me to her as swiftly as you can."

So Eragon did. When he came to the wall, he used magic to fly them over it and was by Saphira's side only two minutes after she had been injured. Her neck was broken and flattened where it had been crushed, and her huge body flailed around helplessly as she fought desperately to fill her lungs.

 _Eragon,_ Saphira moaned weakly. _Help me._

 _Saphira,_ he cried as he knelt by her face. _Hold still if you can. Willow's here to help and I'll sustain her with energy, but she has more experience healing this type of injury than I do. We don't have time for me to fumble around._

Saphira did her best to still the convulsions of her great body, which were already weakening the nearer she got to death. "No," Eragon cried, curling over her face, his tears raining down. "Don't leave me."

-:-:-

Willow knelt closer to the injury and immediately began her work. The injury was so much larger than the similar ones she had healed, covering nearly two feet of Saphira's neck. "What happened, Sunset?" she asked aloud so her dragon would know to communicate with Eragon too. "How did she get such a large injury?"

 _I do not know, sunshine!_ her distraught dragon replied. _We were peacefully sleeping, and I was awakened by a horrible crunching sound and hysterical laugh. I breathed fire in that direction and saw nothing but what looked like the form a huge Kull Urgal ram. But taller by far than any I have ever seen. And my flames did nothing to harm the figure. He continued to move away and only laughed louder, as if amused by my efforts. Maybe it was the Urgal king._

"Why would Kulkarvek attack Saphira?" Willow wondered anxiously, continuing her healing magic.

-:-:-

By then Arya and Varhog had arrived. Arya knelt unbidden opposite Willow on the other side of Saphira's neck and began assisting her, funneling air through the gap Willow was widening to assist Saphira in filling her lungs. She knew that if Eragon's dragon died, he might very well never recover, and Arya couldn't bear the thought of losing her husband to a fate worse than death.

"Maybe to strike at Firesword," Varhog suggested, surveying the scene. "I don't sense him anywhere nearby with my mind, so he is either somehow hiding his presence or has moved far enough away."

"But the attack was totally unprovoked," Eragon muttered. "What has Saphira ever done to Kulkarvek? If he has a problem with me, why not take it up with me?"

"What could be more personal than this?" Varhog asked. "After killing Jarnunvösk, Kulkarvek knows what losing their dragon does to a Rider."

A loud voice suddenly filled the night air, derisively shouting, "Is that you, _Firesword?_ "

"That's Kulkarvek," Varhog warned quietly.

"Sorry about your dragon, drajl," the king taunted. "But not really. Has she died yet? What's this? Some of your little Rider friends are helping you heal her? Is that your wife? And she's pregnant? How sweet. A target for my next attack."

"He must be scrying," Varhog said, more quietly than before. "And he can only see those closest to Saphira since he has never met you or the women."

"But he's still close enough that we can hear him when he's magnifying his voice," Eragon said through clenched teeth.

Arya sensed Eragon's intentions a split-second too late. She reached for him just as he sprang up and sprinted away. "Eragon!" she screamed. "No! Eragon!" She also rose but only took one step before stopping. "Varhog!" she cried. "He doesn't even have his sword! He'll be killed! And I couldn't keep up with him before I was pregnant."

 _I will take you, Varhog,_ Sunset offered for all of them to hear. _We need to catch up to him before he reaches this king._

"Yes," Varhog agreed grimly. "Or he _will_ be killed. If Kulkarvek is invulnerable to dragon's flames, who knows what else will have no effect on him." He leaped up to Sunset's shoulders, and the dragon jumped into the air.

-:-:-

Varhog cast the spell to make himself invisible. If he had been on Black Thunder, he would have done the same for his dragon because the king would surely recognize the black color, though Black Thunder was immeasurably larger than when he had first met Kulkarvek. He said to Sunset, _I can't let the king know I'm helping Firesword. If Firesword has caught up to Kulkarvek by the time we reach him, we need to create a distraction long enough to swoop down and snatch him up._

 _I understand, Varhog. I know my flames will not kill him but maybe they would distract him. Do you think it would work?_

 _We'll try that first. There they are. Kulkarvek_ was _close._

 _I do not know if I can get down through those trees,_ Sunset worried.

 _I'll move them. Firesword's already in danger._ Varhog muttered a few spells to fell several trees and open up a pathway for Sunset.

-:-:-

Eragon ran faster than he ever had in the direction of King Kulkarvek's voice, his reason and judgement completely swept away by the red haze of blood lust clouding his vision. Once Willow's healing work had reassured him that Saphira would survive, all he could feel was a terrible, uncontrollable fury. _Saphira,_ he thought. _Why attack Saphira? Because he knew it would be worse than attacking me._

 _Eragon,_ Saphira's voice said in his mind. _Come back, you fool. What do you think you will prove by getting yourself killed? Then I will be facing the same dilemma you just were._

 _He nearly killed you!_ Eragon thought angrily. _I won't just lie down and take that. I'm not afraid of him. There must be some way to stop him._

 _Sunset's flames did nothing to hurt him,_ Saphira wearily reminded him. _You do not have your sword. What if he is more skilled than you with magic? He is nearly four feet taller than you and almost three times larger than Varhog. I saw the outline of his form while Sunset breathed fire on him._

 _Saphira! I can't live in constant fear that you, Arya, or the baby is in danger!_

 _Then we will leave,_ Saphira said. _Right now. Come back. Arya is beside herself. Think about your duty to her and your child. If you get killed, where will that leave her?_

Eragon stopped. Saphira was right. They still didn't know enough about Kulkarvek for him to foolishly confront him like this, completely unarmed and unprotected, without so much as a shirt on. He turned around to retrace his steps when Kulkarvek suddenly materialized not ten feet in front of him, having maintained his invisibility spell until that moment, apparently waiting for Eragon to run right into him.

Eragon instinctively dodged as the massive, towering Urgal lunged for him, opening his mouth to cast one of the killing spells, which had no effect on the king.

Kulkarvek jeered, "Your magic won't hurt me, _Firesword._ " He once again spat the nickname like a curse. "And I don't even need wards. You won't be able to undo my protection with the name of this, the ancient language. I know my enemy accomplished his goal of discovering the name and that you also know it. But your knowledge will do no good against me. Galbatorix cursed me through the magic of the dragons that I would never die, thereby making me invincible. Nothing will ever change that."

Eragon continued to dodge the king's aggressive attacks, realizing he was completely outmatched without magic. Even with a sword, he would never have been able to stand against an enemy so much taller and stronger than himself. He felt like a puny child next the impossible size of King Kulkarvek. And apparently, if the king wasn't lying, it didn't matter anyway. This curse he mentioned included dragon's flames and magic. It must also include weapons.

Eragon knew he would never be able to outrun the king. He briefly thought of trying to subdue Kulkarvek like Willow always did Varhog, but he knew in the same moment that it wouldn't work. The king would most likely immediately crush his arms, as Garzhvog had attempted. If he then evaded the blow, Eragon would be right back where he was right now, dodging lunges. He felt a pang of fear that he really would die and leave Arya and the baby alone.

Eragon suddenly felt a ward take effect over his body, followed immediately by an inferno of blistering flames the color of Sunset's scales. Had Willow come to his rescue? No, he could sense through his link with Saphira that Willow and Arya were still there with her. Had the dragon come alone? She wouldn't have been able to cast a spell, so it must be Varhog.

Eragon saw what the dragon had meant before—the flames did nothing to hurt Kulkarvek. He simply basked in them as if enjoying the warmth of a mild spring day. But the fire, along with the falling of several huge trees in his direction, distracted the king long enough for the dragon to swoop down and grasp Eragon around his arms with her talons.

The king jumped up after her, but Varhog sent another tree crashing down on him, and Sunset rose out of reach. Eragon hadn't heard Varhog say anything, so he must have cast the spell silently, and Eragon guessed that Varhog's magic only worked because he hadn't tried to attack Kulkarvek, just distract and hinder him.

As Sunset flapped away, the king's enraged voice followed them. "Next time we meet, drajl, one of us _will_ die. And it won't be me because I can't be killed!" His fanatical laughter once again filled the night air.

Eragon began shivering as the cold wind rushed around his bare-chested body, but he barely registered his discomfort. _Saphira, can you fly?_

 _Yes, little one. I will fly._

 _Please take Willow and Arya and begin heading for Ceunon. Varhog and I will go back for our things and be right behind you._

 _Fírnen will be arriving shortly so we can bring Angela with us,_ Saphira told him.

 _The king might be running back for you right now!_ Eragon exclaimed.

 _I know, little one. I will take Arya and Willow. Fírnen is close and flying quickly. I have already communicated with Solembum. They will meet you at the castle._

 _Will Fírnen fly with me and Varhog? We can change arrangements once we have put some distance between us and Carvahall. Angela and Solembum are more used to Sunset._

 _Yes, of course he will, little one. He understands the urgency of the situation. And he is inexpressibly grateful to Willow and Varhog for their service tonight in saving me and you._

Eragon said, _Yes, I can't imagine if they hadn't been here. Is Willow doing all right?_

 _She is tired but otherwise fine. Arya helped her, and Fírnen has been replenishing her energy more and more the closer he gets. Please open your mind to your wife. You have been blocking her since you first left your room. I told her you are fine, but it would help if she heard you._

Eragon immediately did as Saphira suggested, feeling Arya's anxious concern fill his mind as he lowered his defenses. _I'm so sorry, my love,_ he said with deepest remorse.

 _Eragon!_ Arya cried. _I was so worried! I'm so relieved you are well, but what if . . . what if you had died? The baby!_

 _I'm sorry, Arya,_ Eragon said again. _It was completely foolish of me to run off like that. Are you and Willow safely in the air?_

 _Yes, darling. When will I see you?_

 _I feel it would be wise to fly until we need to stop for someone. Was Willow able to get dressed? Are you warm enough to continue until dawn? Then we might stop for breakfast._

Arya said, _Willow is dressed. We have the blanket you carried her in and some from Saphira's saddlebags. We're warm enough. It's amusing for two pregnant women to ride together, but we'll manage. She's tired and hungry, but we'll eat what we can reach in the saddlebags and carry on until we need a break. Dawn isn't far off, if that's when you think it will be safe to stop._

 _I wish it didn't have to be like this,_ Eragon said. _Inform me of anything we should know. I'm sure Willow and Varhog are doing the same as we are. We'll see you soon. I love you, Arya._

 _I know. I love you too, Eragon. Be careful. I can't bear the thought of losing you._

Sunset reached the hill whereon Roran's castle stood. Before Varhog had even dismounted, she was joined by Fírnen. Angela and Solembum were ready and waiting. Eragon instructed Angela and the werecat, "Get on Sunset right now. Let me and Varhog pack your things. You need to get in the air immediately. Sunset will fly after Saphira, and we'll meet you at dawn far from here."

Angela nodded gravely, making no other reply and promptly complying with Eragon's directions. Sunset took to the skies less than three minutes later.

Eragon asked Fírnen to remain in the air while he and Varhog retrieved their belongings from the castle. As the two male Riders went back inside, Eragon quietly said, "Thank you for coming after me, Varhog. You saved my life."

Varhog shrugged. "It's no more than you would have done for me or any of the Riders, Firesword. I'm glad I could and that our rescue attempt worked. It could have gone wrong in so many places."

"Yes," Eragon agreed. "And it if had, I would be dead. The king told me that Galbatorix cursed him to never die. He can't be killed by dragon flames, magic, and I'm assuming weapons. I don't understand why Galbatorix would have done such a thing. It seems he made an enemy even he wouldn't have been able to vanquish."

"It doesn't make any sense," Varhog agreed. "Could a dragon not just tear him to pieces? How would he survive that? I really don't want to think about it. Let's get back to our wives. It sounds like they might not be any safer with us near, but I still hate thinking about them being alone."

"Sorry I barged in like I did," Eragon said, following Varhog into his room. Varhog shouldered the two packs that had already been prepared for their departure, and they continued down the hall to Eragon's room.

"I'm glad you're sorry," Varhog said. "I understand why and I forgive you, but I didn't like it."

Eragon pulled on his other clothing before grabbing his and Arya's things. "Let's go tell Roran we're leaving."

They quickly made their way to Roran's sleeping quarters, and Eragon knocked on the door. Roran answered after a few moments, the sleepy look immediately clearing when he saw the two Riders dressed and carrying their packs. "We're leaving, Roran," Eragon said. "Right now. Saphira was attacked by the Urgal king and we don't feel it safe for us to stay. The Urgals outside the wall are already vaguely aware that something happened, but inform them of the gravity of the situation. Add some men to the watch and pray the king doesn't return. I hope his urge to kill wasn't so frustrated that he attacks again."

Roran asked a handful of questions, which Eragon answered in short, clipped phrases. Before they left, Katrina appeared behind Roran and asked, "Will you return after your baby is born?"

"I don't know, Katrina," Eragon said. "You'll be busy with your crops. If we do, it will be for less than a day. We can't risk continuing to bring trouble to Carvahall every time we're here."

"Even a day would be better than nothing," Katrina insisted. "Or we could meet you in Therinsford. It's a little farther south, but not so far we couldn't make the journey with the children for a brief time."

"I'll communicate with Roran when the time comes," Eragon promised. "Until then, we want to act as if we were never here and hope it's enough to keep the king and his rams away from Carvahall. I worry for you, Roran."

"We'll be fine, Eragon," Roran reassured, though Eragon could see the anxiety in his eyes. "Thank you for saying goodbye. Safe travels."

Eragon and Varhog swiftly left the castle, stowed their things in Fírnen's saddlebags, and took to the skies.


	22. Whispers of the Past

22\. Whispers of the Past

They met up with the other two dragons and their passengers at dawn, just east of the Anora River. The two couples were happy in a subdued way to be reunited. They stopped only long enough for the women to stretch, eat a cooked meal, and relieve themselves. Black Thunder had flown to meet them at Varhog's request, so Varhog and Willow rode his dragon while Eragon and Arya flew with Fírnen. Sunset continued to carry Angela and Solembum. Though Saphira insisted that Willow's healing job had left her perfectly sound, Eragon didn't want her to overexert herself the rest of their journey.

They made it to Ceunon that night and stayed at an inn, though Varhog's presence was only barely tolerated. Eragon was so high-strung, the innkeeper saw the sense in not arguing with him. The Riders slept outside between Ceunon and Osilon, but in Osilon they were welcomed more warmly, and they stayed a few days with the elves to recover from the swift, stressful nature of their travels thus far.

The rest of the journey from Osilon to Ellesméra went fairly smoothly and at a more leisurely pace. Both of the women had to make frequent stops to stretch their legs and backs and to relieve themselves, which was a pressing need thanks to the extra weight of their growing wombs.

Though their evening campfire discussions often returned to the dilemma presented by Kulkarvek, the farther they got from Carvahall, the less concerned they became, especially after each nightly scrying session with Roran reassured them the town had not been attacked again.

So when they weren't worrying about weighty matters, Willow ensured that the conversation turned to lighter topics, the most frequent of which were the joys of marriage, pregnancy, and her excitement about arriving in Ellesméra. Much to the apparent consternation of Angela, they discussed marital love as openly as they had in Varhog's village, sharing ideas and laughs about Willow's and Arya's growing wombs. Solembum never acted like he cared much, but Willow secretly thought he enjoyed the amusing conversations and especially how they affected Angela.

One night Willow's curiosity got the better of her, and as they were gathered around a warm campfire, she asked, "Angela, you've lived such a long life. Have you never loved another in the way we four often discuss?"

Angela's face took on a sad, distant look as she said, "Yes, Willow. Long ago I loved a man—a dwarf, actually—as deeply as you four now love each other. You're fortunate, however, to know that you'll all enjoy relative immortality, barring any unforeseen tragedies. Thorv and I married and had children. Though dwarves live longer than humans, they all grew old in time and died, while I stayed young and remained. That time of my life with my family was the most joyful I have ever known. To lose them was the most painful experience of my very long, sad existence. I determined never to love another so I wouldn't have to endure it again. But the real reason is that I still love my husband and always will." She stopped, her always-busy hands still for once, great tears filling her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Willow whispered.

Arya's eyes also had tears as she heard the sad tale. "When did this happen, wise one?" she asked softly.

"It was many centuries ago, when I first attained the age such things would be normal in one's life. I had no idea to expect that I would be immortal. I had left the guardianship of Tenga—the human magician my grandmother left me with—and found a place among the dwarves, since I closely resembled them. There I met my future husband and we fell in love and got married. The children soon came. Six of them." Her tears spilled onto her round cheeks. "Three sons, three daughters. Oh, how I miss them. So many lonely centuries. I don't know what to expect with my life, but if what has already occurred is any indication, I will endure many more lonely centuries as an immortal. I shudder to think about the pain in Murtagh's future, as it will be similar to my own."

Angela was silent for many moments. She was so often cheerful that the Riders never suspected such a painful and sad past. She sniffed loudly, attempting a small smile. "Arya, you once teased Murtagh that he should grow a beard if he wanted to pleasure his wife as Eragon does you. It was one of the only times I've lost my composure and laughed along with the rest of you at discussion of that topic. As a dwarf, Thorv had an impressive beard. I remember just what you meant." She laughed quietly, but not without a hint of deep longing and sadness.

Arya smiled faintly, as did Willow, who then observed, "If you had six children, you must have many descendants alive today."

"Yes," Angela confirmed. "After the grandchildren grew and became older in appearance than I am, it began to create problems and questions I didn't have answers to. I saw it would be best to distance myself from them so the confusion wouldn't trouble them any longer. It has been so many hundreds of years now that when I visit the dwarf kingdom, no one even remembers." She fell silent once more.

Eragon asked, "Did you ever return to Tenga? When I first learned you once apprenticed with him, I wouldn't have guessed your most recent time with him was five or more centuries ago."

Angela made a face of distaste, and Solembum hissed. "Yes. After my life with Thorv, I returned to learn more of magic from Tenga. That was when I really began digging for answers about my parents. My life felt so meaningless without my family, and since it was apparent that I had inherited my mother's immortality, I was searching for a purpose again."

"You told me you parted badly," Eragon said. "Why?"

"I suppose he might have wanted our relationship to take a romantic turn," Angela answered. "I've already told you that I never stopped loving my husband, Thorv. Nothing was further from my mind than a relationship with Tenga."

"Nasuada told me four spellcasters were killed when she sent them after Tenga," Arya said.

"I'm not surprised," Angela said. "Though Tenga is completely deranged, he's a powerful magician. None of us like the measures the high queen has attempted to regulate magic."

"The elves feel the same," Arya said. "But I can see why Nasuada feels as she does. Magic creates many unfair advantages for those who can use it. When those people happen to be unscrupulous, the non-magic population is at their mercy."

Angela nodded, remaining quietly thoughtful for a time. When she spoke again, it was on a different topic. "I have now come to believe that we most likely have nothing to fear at the time of your baby's birth, Shadeslayers, but I still hope to learn something of my parents and why I was destined to remain behind, living such a solitary life. It would mean so much to me if you truly do as you have expressed you might and have your baby in Ellei-an's meadow. I know exactly where it is. I spent many long decades combing Du Weldenvarden until I came across what I am sure is the location of my parent's meeting and love story. It is unchanged, preserved by the effects of Ellei-an's magic and their love, I would suspect. Such powerful emotions and magic leave impressions on the land long after the physical events have passed. Such is the case with Vroengard, though the effects were negative in that instance."

Eragon was deeply affected by the further insight they had gained into Angela's past. He said, "Angela, we will. We'll have our baby there if it means we might help you in your search. Arya, do you object?"

"No, darling," she replied. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I suspect we'll learn something that will prove useful. You've helped us in many significant ways, wise one. The cathedral of the priests of Helgrind comes to mind as a prominent example. There you saved our lives."

Eragon's face darkened, and he took Arya's right hand, rubbing over a small area near the base of her thumb.

"You remember?" Arya said with mild surprise. "The exact location?"

"Aye," Eragon replied, raising her hand to kiss the same place. "How could I ever forget? I've already told you this, Arya. I remember every touch we ever shared during the war. I felt so certain I'd never experience more than the few you favored me with that I filed each away into a special part of my mind where I'd be able call on them at will. That part of my brain has become quite full these past months, but the memories from my previous time in Alagaёsia will always be clear and distinct. They're precious to me. But that touch was less sweet because of what you did before it."

"I did what was logical," Arya said dismissively, just as she had at the time.

Willow's curiosity was once again piqued. "You must elaborate," she begged. "I've not heard this story."

"I'll tell it," Angela offered. "I was there and there are some parts to the story that even the Shadeslayers don't know. I've been feeling the itch to tell a good story, and it would be most welcome at this particular time, after dwelling on past pain. You'll have to fill in the gaps, Eragon and Arya, as I'm not acquainted with all that occurred to you after you were taken captive by the priests." And with that tempting introduction, she delved into the engaging tale. Angela was a captivating storyteller, and though Arya and Eragon had lived through most of it, they still listened in fascination to Angela's account.

When she was clearly finished, Willow breathed, "Marvelous!"

Varhog also made a sound of appreciative approval. "You tell good stories, Mooneater."

Angela tittered. "It was quite the experience. Taking out the High Priest was the crowning moment for me. What about you, Eragon?"

"Hmm," Eragon considered. "It was so full of death. Perhaps sharing Arya's mind as we grappled mentally with the priests. Or seeing you take out twenty priests in a split-second with Tinkledeath. I've studied most carefully and consulted the Eldunarí, and I still have yet to unearth your secret there. I've always wondered how you were such a powerful magician and amazing fighter. Perhaps I need several more centuries of existence."

Angela laughed lightly. "I'm surprised the Eldunarí haven't shed any light on that technique. And you're right. There _are_ a few advantages to living a great span of time, though I don't know that I'd go so far as to say they outweigh the drawbacks. I will nonetheless be grateful for the knowledge I have gained. My long time spent practicing is surely the main reason I am such a capable fighter and magician. Did you have a favorite moment, Arya?" she then asked.

"I don't know if I would call any of that 'favorite,'" Arya replied. "The work of death was unrelenting the whole course of the war. You all know how the elves honor life. Wyrden dying. Feeling so helpless as we were chained over that disk. Wrenching my hand free. It was all agonizing. Maybe my favorite part was when Eragon rescued me in front of the city gates and we could finally leave the accursed place."

"Rescued you?" Willow repeated with interest, for Angela's tale had not extended beyond the walls of the cathedral.

"Oh, yes," Arya said with a smile. "Eragon was always rescuing me from some dire threat, gallant gentleman that he is."

"Not as much as you were rescuing me," Eragon rejoined, laughing. "I wouldn't go so far as to call me a gallant gentleman at that time. Rash, headstrong child seems more appropriate."

Arya also laughed before answering Willow, "Eragon performed an impressive feat of magic to clear the gates of Dras-Leona of an enormous pile of rubble. We were next to each other, but while his attention was focused on his spell, I was captured by a group of soldiers. When he noticed my difficulty, he ran to my rescue, freeing me of the soldiers and killing all but a few in his fury, and injuring even those."

"But it took twenty of them to even keep you subdued," Eragon reminded her. "And every time you freed one of your hands or feet, you killed one of them before another could grab you again. Though you were more capable of protecting me than the other way around, whenever you were hurt or in danger, I was filled with a terrible rage and felt so protective."

"Thus my use of the phrase 'gallant gentleman,'" Arya said softly. "Your love for me always compelled you to defend me, even when I could do the same as easily for myself. Although the many times you saved me from impossible situations seem to suggest otherwise. In spite of my many impressive elven abilities, it appears I still needed a savior."

"You'll always have one as long as there's breath in my body," Eragon vowed fervently.

"You two endured so much!" Willow exclaimed in admiration.

"Aye," Eragon said. "And the only way we prevailed was by working together. There were many times, too many to even count, when I was so grateful to have Arya fighting by my side."

"I felt the same," Arya said. "And though we have overcome much together, so have you, Willow. Your trials with Varhog have been condensed into a considerably shorter period, but they have been no less intense."

"They were worth it, if that's what it took to get me here," Willow stated, stroking Varhog's hand, which was resting gently over her womb so he could feel every possible movement of his babies.

"I agree," Arya said, yawning with a hand over her mouth. "Forgive me," she apologized. "I just realized how weary I am. Are you others also ready to retire?"

The others made various responses of assent, and they all turned in for the night.


	23. Ellesméra

23\. Ellesméra

After ten long, wearying days of travel, the party arrived in Ellesméra. Hanin knew to expect them as, by extension, did the other elves. They were greeted warmly and honorably, and the unmistakable evidence that both Arya and Willow were expecting was perhaps the elves' greatest cause for rejoicing.

The four Riders immediately met the newest Rider, Maehrí, and her shimmering silver dragon, Silvan, who seemed a perfect fit for one another, with the same breathtaking coloring in their appearances. Maehrí's waist-length silver hair reflected the sunlight in exactly the same manner as her dragon's scales, and their eyes were also a precise match of the palest sky blue. Maehrí was tall and strong, like most elves, and young for the race at only thirty.

Though Willow had once seen Maehrí through a scrying spell, she felt a pang of envy at her devastating beauty upon first meeting her in person. Willow was grateful that she and Varhog were already married, for fear he might fall victim to Maehrí's loveliness. In spite of the pang, Willow still greeted Maehrí with a warm embrace, immediately loving her when Maehrí begged to feel within her womb and exclaimed in delight at discovering the two babies nestled therein.

"How marvelous!" Maehrí cried, her voice a captivating trill.

Arya gave Maehrí the same welcome, apparently feeling the same cautious apprehension at the stunning looks of this newest Rider now that Eragon was seeing her for the first time. Arya was all too aware that her own exotic features had been enough to first capture her husband's eye, but she and Willow needn't have worried, of course. Their husbands had eyes only for their wives, and both males regarded Maehrí with the same brotherly kindness they did all the other Riders.

Maehrí's astonishment at being embraced by Arya was amusing for how profound it was. "I cry your pardon, Maehrí," Arya apologized when she noticed Maehrí's reaction. "I've become so accustomed to it that it seems more natural than the formal greeting of our race." Arya then initiated the ritual exchange of phrases and actions, again startling Maehrí at her display of respect.

"It is so hard for me not to think of you as the queen," Maehrí breathed. "It has only been a matter of months since you left, and you are so like your mother that everything about you still demands I recognize you with the highest honor. And look! Now married and expecting! My astonishment increases by the moment. What an amazing gift!" She once again begged to feel the child, which Arya readily allowed.

"It's so miraculous," Maehrí concluded reverently. She then timidly turned her attention to Eragon, obviously feeling she must show him equal deference. Eragon grinned, surprising her once more by placing his first two fingers to his lips and speaking the first of the three phrases, "May good fortune rule over you."

Maehrí raised her eyebrows and responded, "Peace live in your heart."

With a slight bow and his wrist turned over his collarbone, Eragon finished, "And the stars watch over you. Welcome as the newest Dragon Rider, Maehrí of Sílthrim. We are most honored to meet you and have you join our ranks. You've met Willow. This is her husband, the first Urgal Rider, Varhog of the Bolvek tribe."

Maehrí looked up at Varhog in shock, soundlessly repeating the word 'husband.' Varhog performed the elven greeting, which Maehrí was only able to complete out of pure habit. She looked at Willow's womb with renewed interest then back at Varhog, who was smiling at her reaction. The expression on his face seemed only to increase Maehrí's consternation. In a disbelieving whisper she forced herself to say, "On the day Silvan hatched I heard Willow speaking of her honeymoon in Varhog's village, but I never imagined she meant _with_ Varhog. An Urgal ram has taken a human for his mate? A female human has willingly joined with an Urgal ram? Forgive me for reacting thus, but the idea is so completely foreign to me as to be impossible to believe."

"Believe it," Willow said bluntly though not unkindly. "Aren't these babies in here evidence enough?"

"That you are expecting, certainly," Maehrí allowed. "But that they are _his?_ Forgive me again. I don't mean to be rude."

Willow smiled. "Even as an elf, you're bordering on it, sister." Maehrí raised her slanted eyebrows again—actually they hadn't left that position for almost the entirety of the exchange—at Willow's familial reference. "But don't worry," Willow quickly added. "I'm not offended. This is how most people react when learning of our relationship and that I'm expecting Varhog's babies. The obvious method to that madness is just too much for most people to accept."

From a scrying conversation with Hanin, Willow knew he had anticipated Maehrí's reaction, and she glanced over to where he was standing behind and off to one side of Maehrí. Willow smiled at him, which Hanin returned with a telling nod.

Then, in her characteristic way, Willow said something that made Maehrí blush deeply. "If you only knew how amazing it is to be with an Urgal ram in the way necessary to create this," she rubbed her womb, "you'd beg to have one as your mate." She laughed delightedly as the blood rushed to Maehrí's cheeks, all the way up to the tips of her pointed ears. "Perhaps Grintuk would be interested," Willow mused in mock innocence. At Maehrí's confused expression, Willow explained, "Grintuk is the other Urgal Rider. I can't say I find him as handsome as I do my husband, but in time you might. And I can't imagine any male not being immediately captivated by such overwhelming beauty as yours, sister." She smiled again at Hanin, who winked. Willow was glad he knew she was only teasing.

Maehrí said in surprise, "That day Hanin scryed you after I was chosen, you referred to the fact that you now have two elven sisters. I'm so unaccustomed to being called sister."

Willow said, "The Riders on the Isle have come to feel a very affectionate regard for each other and most of us see the others as brothers, or sisters as the case may be." She paused, looking up at Varhog with a mischievous grin. "Unless of course we've simply fallen madly in love and gotten married." She laughed again, as did Varhog, Eragon, and Arya.

Hanin finally let the laugh he had been struggling to suppress at many of Willow's remarks break forth. Maehrí turned to look at him, as astonished as she had yet been. " _You_ laugh?"

Hanin laughed even louder at her question. "Apparently not enough if it surprises you so much to hear it," he said in amusement. "It's impossible not to with Willow around. She always knows exactly what to say to make everyone feel unbelievably awkward and perfectly comfortable in the same moment. You've just personally experienced that, Maehrí, which is a good sign. It means she likes you, which is one of the greatest gifts you'll ever receive. Having Willow as your friend will be invaluable in your time on the Isle." Varhog proudly put his huge arms around Willow, resting his hands gently over her belly.

Willow smiled brightly. "Thank you, Hanin! That was so sweet! I've missed you, brother, and I'm so happy to finally see you again!" She shifted, and Varhog moved his arms so Willow could walk over and give Hanin a big hug, which he easily returned. As he drew back, Hanin left his hands on her growing belly.

"Look at you," Hanin marveled. "Your two babies make you nearly the same size as Arya, though she'll give birth so much sooner." Willow nodded joyfully. "You'll be the envy of every female elf you come across. How are you feeling?"

"Perfect!" Willow said. "Especially now that I know I won't have to fly for several more weeks. What was once my most favorite pastime is now nearly unbearable with all this extra weight in my lap. And I'm just past halfway through this pregnancy. Imagine how huge I'll be in a few more months."

"I can," Hanin said fondly. "It's actually fun to imagine. And Varhog? Finally united with the one you love? How is _that_?" He gave Varhog a knowing grin that could only be explained by his time interacting with so many male humans, dwarves, and Urgals on the Isle. No elf would have ever insinuated such a thing if not for such unusual influences.

"Amazing," Varhog replied with a chuckle. "More than amazing. Now _you_ need to find a mate, Hanin."

"Me?" Hanin said dismissively. "When I'm so young? Nay, I think I must be at least a hundred before such a thing will occur to me. At eighty, I am but a mere babe in the eyes of my people." He laughed lightly, the musical sound inviting the same response from everyone else.

"Yes, you rash young hatchling," Arya teased. "You had best not be considering such a thing so soon. But when you do, make sure the one you take is at least eighty years your junior. Then you'll be sure to enjoy endless pleasure in your old age." She giggled and leaned into Eragon, who kissed her hair.

Hanin laughed again, keeping his eyes dutifully away from Maehrí, though she was regarding him and all the others with ever-increasing levels of disbelief at their easy discussion of this topic. Hanin's studious avoidance of looking at her was all the confirmation the other two females needed of their suspicions in Ilirea.

"How has your time in Ellesméra been?" Willow asked Hanin, struck again by how exceptionally handsome he was—a sentiment clearly shared by Maehrí. Hanin's hair was the same coal black as Arya's, though he kept it much shorter than many male elves, for the logical convenience it afforded in flying on a dragon. It was straight and cropped above his ears so it stood in tousled spikes. His skin was a healthy tanned color, and though his hair was dark like Arya's, his eyes weren't light. They were such a dark brown as to appear almost black, which gave him an equally striking look, and were sparkling in amusement right then.

"It has been truly delightful," Hanin answered Willow, "though I begin to worry I have been too stern a mentor for Maehrí, seeing how stunned she was to hear me laugh just now. It has been pleasant helping her raise her dragon, practicing swordplay, flying together—Silvan has been large enough for several months—and of course, seeing my mother and father."

"Wonderful!" Willow cried. "That's a beautiful blade you have there." She looked at the sword belted to his waist with unveiled envy. "Do you suppose we might be able to meet Rhunön soon?"

"Though she would never let on," Hanin replied, "I think Rhunön is secretly anxious to meet you and Varhog so she has an excuse to be forging again. She's as crabby and rough as ever, but that's why we all love her. She's one of the few of our race who has never been hampered by the stuffy courtesy of our ways, since she was around before it even began. I daresay she'll like you a great deal, with your perfect honesty and bluntness. And Varhog, if she decides to make you a sword, she'll have a wonderful time forging it, since she'll be able to vicariously experience all that muscle. It might make her wish she was born an Urgal."

Varhog chuckled, and Hanin laughed before finally looking at Maehrí. "It seems I must apologize for being so strict and formal, Maehrí. Your look of profound shock has been ever-present, but most particularly in response to seeing me a bit more relaxed than you are accustomed to. Forgive me?"

"Of course!" Maehrí exclaimed, taken aback. "But I hardly think you are in need of forgiveness. Your behavior has never been anything but chivalrous and proper, which is not deserving of reproof. Seeing this other side of you is not unwelcome, only shocking, as you say, since it is completely new."

"Thank you," Hanin accepted graciously, looking away before his eyes revealed anymore. Willow grinned knowingly but refrained from saying anything that might embarrass Hanin, who seemed to know that his feelings were not hidden from her. He smiled in return to show his gratitude for her silence, then suggested, "Would you like to meet Rhunön now or do you prefer to rest first?"

"That's the _only_ thing I'd rather do than rest," Willow declared. "Come, sweetheart," she entreated Varhog in Urgralish, using his language completely out of habit. "I'm so excited to meet her! But if she decides to make us swords—not that I expect it—you might have to forge mine. I'm not sure I'm strong enough and this belly might get in the way. We'll just see what she says. And you'll want to visit the library too, no doubt." Varhog nodded affectionately as she took his hand.

Willow looked expectantly at Hanin, indicating she was ready for him to lead the way. But no one moved.

"You learned Urgralish," Hanin stated incredulously.

"Oh!" Willow said, resuming use of the ancient language. "I didn't even think about that. It has become so habitual speaking it with Varhog and his family that I just fell into it naturally. Um, yes, I did learn Urgralish, as you clearly just heard. It was important to me. I especially wanted to be able to understand all of our nieces and nephews. The language sounds completely different when they speak it than when the rams do. But it's nothing special. Eragon and Arya also learned it during the months we spent together in Varhog's village during the winter."

"But only because you were," Arya interjected. "And neither of us attained the same level of mastery, though we can both understand perfectly and converse passably well."

Willow shrugged. "I was determined, which is one of my strengths, I suppose. And I had the same type of learning experience Varhog did in mastering all of the tongues he can speak, with the added advantage of being completely immersed in the language night and day. I suppose having him as a personal tutor was my only advantage."

"How I wish I could have been with you for a time," Hanin mourned. "It sounds as if there's a lot to learn of the Urgralish ways."

"You have no idea, Hanin!" Willow gushed. "It's the most beautiful culture I have ever heard of or witnessed. If every society viewed love, marriage, family, and loyalty in the same way, I can't imagine there ever being another conflict in the world. At least the way Varhog's village does. Kulkarvek is another story. It seems that _he_ is the embodiment of the brutality and violence most people mistakenly attribute to the rest of the race."

"Did you have some trouble with him?" Hanin asked in concern. "I was worried Arya's warning might become prophetic."

"Kulkarvek attacked Saphira and she nearly died," Eragon answered. "Thank goodness Willow was there and could heal the injury before she did. We learned he is invincible, or at least invulnerable to dragon fire, magic, and weapons. Any type of confrontation with him would surely be accompanied by more needless death, which is something I will do anything to avoid, especially knowing what I now do about the Urgralish culture."

"This is grave," Hanin observed solemnly. "We'll have to discuss this more at a later time, but first let's go see Rhunön so Willow and Arya can get some rest." He turned to lead the way through the city of trees, heading toward Rhunön's dwelling. Sunset and Black Thunder trailed along behind. The four dragons of the other Riders had departed, Vera and Silvan accompanying Saphira and Fírnen as they went to hunt.


	24. Rhunön-elda

24\. Rhunön-elda

The party soon reached their destination, passing through the tunnel of dogwood trees, the bare branches of which were dotted with buds ready to burst open with the early arrival of spring. Black Thunder had a difficult time crawling under the branches without tearing the lowest ones down, and Sunset found his struggle amusing.

Willow looked up over their heads as they walked into the atrium, mesmerized by the quaint feel of the place. The old elf smith was at the anvil within her open-walled smithy, hammering away at some project when the group arrived. Rhunön left her work and, before of greeting any of the people, walked straight to Sunset, an eager look in her eyes.

"Mesmerizing," she rasped in her grating voice, running a hand over the smooth area on Sunset's snout. "In all the many centuries that I forged blades for Riders, I _never_ beheld a hue such as yours, queen of the sky. What is your name?"

 _Sunset,_ the dragon replied.

"Perfect," Rhunön purred. "That's just what I thought of when I saw you. If I were to forge your Rider a blade, it would be the most exquisite I have ever created. Where is he?"

She _is right over there, standing in front of the Urgal ram,_ Sunset informed her in amusement, thinking if she pointed out Varhog, Rhunön would more easily identify Willow among the group of tall people.

"She," Rhunön repeated as she turned to regard Willow. " _She_ is pregnant. As are you, princess," she observed as her eyes fell on Arya. "How splendid." Though her joy was not excessive, as it had been from many of the other elves, she truly appeared happy by her observation. Rhunön made her way to Willow and, without asking, placed her strong, heat-toughened hands right on her belly. "Welcome, Dragon Rider. You have a stunning dragon. And who might be the lucky father of your baby?"

"Babies," Willow corrected with a bright smile. "And their father is this handsome ram right here," she replied, turning slightly and placing a hand on Varhog's abdomen.

"Is that so?" Rhunön muttered, her expression noticeably less shocked than Maehrí's had been, though her surprise was still obvious. "Well, there's a first for everything, even for one who has lived as long as I. However, I must admit, _that_ is one thing I never thought to hear. Good for you, then, for defying foolish tradition and laughing in the face of ancient prejudice to follow your heart. That's how true change for the better improves the world. What is your name, Rider?"

"I'm Willow," she replied. "My mate is Varhog, and he's also a Rider. I'm so delighted to finally meet you, Rhunön-elda! Thank you for your compliments to Sunset."

"Some thanks!" Rhunön groused. "It's nice to hear that every once and a while. Some think they are too handsome for such courtesy." She turned an accusing eye on Hanin.

Hanin grinned patiently, his perfect teeth sparkling brightly against his tan skin. "Did I not express my gratitude, Rhunön-elda?" Willow was certain he had and that Rhunön was griping simply to keep up appearances. Hanin continued, "How thoughtless and rude of me. I'm eternally grateful to you for your magnificent effort in forging my sword. Thank you, honored one."

"That's more like it," Rhunön allowed with a terse smile of her own. "And this pretty thing was most effulgent in her thanks. No need to repeat them, Maehrí," she grunted, attempting to keep her tone stern, though there was a hint of teasing in it.

Rhunön turned back to Willow. "Do you already have a blade, Willow?"

"Yes, wise one," Willow answered. "Varhog, would you please fetch it from the saddlebags?"

"Certainly, Eartheyes," he replied, making his way to Black Thunder and returning with Willow's brown sword.

Rhunön scowled when she saw the blade. "That won't do!" she exclaimed. "I will not allow a Dragon Rider with a dragon the color of Sunset to have a dull, muddy brown blade. Would you mind if I forged you a new sword, Willow?"

"Of course not, Rhunön-elda!" Willow cried. "But I really don't need it. The brown one is such a good fit, and I'm going to be a mother soon."

Rhunön grunted. "It will give me something interesting to do. What about you, Varhog? Do you have a weapon?"

"No, honored one," he replied. "The blade I had before becoming a Dragon Rider worked for me, but I have grown five inches since then and am immeasurably stronger. I usually don't need a weapon, however. I can fight really well with my hands."

"I can imagine," Rhunön said, staring pointedly at his massive torso. "Would you like to have a sword big and strong enough for you, Rider?"

"I certainly wouldn't deny you the opportunity, if that's what you want to do," Varhog said. "But I feel like Willow. I can't imagine many times I would use it aside from training purposes."

"As I said, it would give me something interesting to do. I have all that brightsteel and this is the best use for it that I can think of. You understand my conditions?"

"Yes," Willow and Varhog said together.

Rhunön briskly rubbed her hands together. "Well! Nothing like forging a Rider's sword. Shall we begin? I'm guessing that black beast is yours, Urgal?"

Varhog grinned. "Yes, Rhunön-elda. That's Black Thunder." The dragon rumbled commandingly as he was introduced.

"Yes, yes," Rhunön dismissed, "We know you are big and impressive. It has been a long while since I forged a black blade. Magnificent they are. Good thing no one ever suggested the idea with regards to that _betrayer_ and his stolen dragon. If he had ever shown up here, I would have taken off his head with my hammer, no matter how many wards he might have had on himself." She grimaced. "But let's not dwell on that. Thank goodness these Shadeslayers took care of the abominations, man and dragon, though the dragon was merely an innocent victim, as were so many others. Which of you would like to go first?"

Ever the gentleman, Varhog gently pushed Willow forward. "Thank you, Yelloweyes," she said softly in Urgralish.

Varhog gave her a loving smile, moving one hand to her face as he explained, "I want you to be able to rest as soon as possible." Willow nodded gratefully.

Willow turned back to Rhunön, who had regarded the exchange shrewdly. "You speak Urgralish."

"Only recently, but yes," Willow replied modestly. "My husband is an Urgal. I wanted to understand his language and fit in better with his family, though they could all speak the common tongue. The children all spoke Urgralish much more comfortably and having Varhog translate for me was quite dizzying at times, with how they all talk so animatedly over one another."

"Did you call him 'Yelloweyes'?" Rhunön wondered.

Willow laughed. "It's just my nickname for him. He suggested it himself after I told him he could call me 'Eartheyes.' We decided that moments after we met over seven years ago, if you can believe it. He has told me he always loved my eyes and my openness, so it just happened that way."

"I believe it," Rhunön said. "I understand what he meant." She paused as if contemplating Willow's uniqueness then asked, "So you first? Can you show me how you fight with a sword, though your womb is growing? Did you say 'babies,' by the way?"

"Yes, they're twins," Willow confirmed. "I'll try to show you how I fight. I've fought Arya before. She's clearly my superior, but maybe she would still be the best opponent for me now, what with our similar hindrance."

"Not a hindrance," Rhunön insisted. "But I know what you meant. Very well. I've found that simply observing one's fighting style is the easiest way to determine the shape, length, and width of their sword. Arya has a blade." Eragon was holding Támerlein for her, since belting it around her waist was not plausible with its current size. Rhunön continued, "And you have yours. You seem quite strong for a female human. And very tall."

"I can thank my father for the height, I suppose," Willow said, accepting her brown sword from Varhog. "The strength is mostly thanks to Varhog. Wrestling an Urgal simply requires some muscle. There's no way around it."

"You have wrestled with this Urgal?" Rhunön scoffed gruffly, letting her eyes sweep down Varhog's seven-foot frame and across its width.

Varhog proudly replied, "Aye, and bested me on countless occasions, something not even my Kull uncle—the war chief of our tribe—can claim."

"Then what do you need a sword for, girl?" Rhunön demanded.

Willow smiled. "I really don't, as I said. I don't see myself ever fighting with it, since I'm getting ready to have twins in a few months. I've always wanted a sword the color of Sunset, but Eragon has told me how you feel about having a weapon for its appearance alone, if there's no function for it. We needn't go to the trouble, Rhunön-elda."

"No, Willow," Rhunön reassured quickly. "I _want_ to forge your blade. But I would also _love_ to see you best an Urgal ram. You do it with your bare hands?"

"Yes," Willow laughed, glad Rhunön was still going to make her sword. "Although I'm fairly sure I couldn't do it with my body as it is right now. Do you want me to explain it? Better yet, we could just show you images from the fight where I had to prove I was worthy to be Varhog's mate. I fought three rams, including the uncle he just mentioned."

Rhunön entreated, "Show me! Who all witnessed it?"

"Eragon, Arya, Angela. Where did she wander off to?" Willow wondered, looking around and noticing for the first time that Angela wasn't with them. "Oh well. There were two others from our traveling party, but they're not here. Varhog could show you up until he goes unconscious, but maybe it would just be easier if Eragon or Arya shows you."

Rhunön looked greedy as she said, "Or both of them could. Each would have a unique perspective, noticing different things. Well, have at it, Shadeslayer," she demanded of Eragon.

Eragon grinned, but before he could start, Hanin eagerly requested, "Show me too, brother. I've often witnessed Willow subdue Varhog, but that she bested a Kull is simply incredible."

Maehrí timidly asked, "Might I also see? I confess, this sounds amazing, and I would love to witness Willow's abilities."

Willow laughed dismissively. "I'm sure any elf could do as much. You're quick and thin enough, and that's really all I have going for me. When I don't have two babies growing inside of me, that is."

"Everyone ready?" Eragon asked. Varhog shook his head, and Eragon looked at him questioningly. In answer, Varhog stepped forward, took the sword from Willow's hand, and gently lifted her into his arms.

"She's tired," Varhog explained. "This will take a few minutes. I want her to be able to rest."

Willow smiled up at him. "Thank you, sweetheart. How thoughtful."

"Good idea," Eragon said, adjusting his hold on Támerlein before turning to pick up Arya in the same position. She smiled at him gratefully and put her arms around his neck after kissing his cheek. That left Rhunön, who looked slightly amused, and Hanin and Maehrí.

The latter two seemed to think of the same thing at the same time. They glanced furtively at one another, and their eyes met. Maehrí shyly lowered hers, but Hanin appeared to find their mutual peek amusing. He grinned broadly and said in a playful tone, "How about you, Maehrí? Are you also weary?" She looked back at his face as he raised his arms toward her.

Maehrí blushed, shifting awkwardly. When Hanin kept his arms up, apparently completely willing to hold her if she wished, she smiled faintly, her eyes revealing the smallest hint of longing before she quelled the emotion and softly said, "No, Hanin. I'm fine. But thank you for the offer." She looked down once more, but Hanin kept his eyes on her lovely face, many emotions running through them. Willow sensed it might be a turning point in their relationship and wondered what would happen next.

Eragon then asked, "Now are we ready?" They all nodded, and Eragon proceeded to share his memories of the fight with everyone present.

Willow closed her eyes and rested her head against Varhog's shoulder, grateful he had thought to pick her up. She really was exhausted. Perhaps they should return in the morning. She watched the images play through her mind, not as enthralled as the others. With her eyes closed, Willow only became aware of Rhunön's scrutinizing gaze when Sunset shared her observation of it with Willow.

Rhunön raised her eyebrows as Willow faced Garzhvog, and the crease never left her brow after that, not even once Eragon finished. Rhunön quietly said to Arya, "Princess, will you now show me your memories?"

Arya did, and Rhunön's face remained pensive as she once again witnessed the fight. When Arya concluded, Rhunön was quiet for a long while.

Finally she said, "To say that I am impressed does not do my feelings justice. I can see that you are weary, Willow. I think it would be best to either wait until tomorrow morning or begin with your mate's weapon. I have much to contemplate. What do you prefer we do?"

"I was thinking it might be best if we simply retire for the evening," Willow responded.

Rhunön jerked her head down. "How long do you plan on staying in Ellesméra?" she asked.

"At least a month, right Arya?"

Arya answered, "Yes, I would imagine at least that long."

"Are you going somewhere after that?" Rhunön wondered, staring at Arya's distended womb.

"It's a long story, Rhunön-elda, but yes, we are," Arya replied. "We plan to have our baby at a specific location in eastern Du Weldenvarden."

"That's far," Rhunön commented. "You'll be near your time if you leave in a month." Arya nodded. "Well, I only asked so I could decide whether I would need to speed the forging process with magic. I suppose with two blades and the other project I have in mind, I will have to. Somewhat, at least."

"What other project?" Arya queried.

"A special protective coat for Willow," Rhunön said simply.

"Why?" Willow asked.

"I have an impression," Rhunön said. "I sometimes get them. I feel you will need it. But I need to carefully consider _how_ I am going to make it. I know the Urgralgra rules for single combat, and the rams usually fight in their loin cloths or the equivalent. But I noticed they didn't expect that of you. However, I also don't think they would allow armor, nor would you be able to accomplish your impressive victory with traditional protective gear. What I have in mind must appear to be only a shirt or coat, with the flexibility of such. But at the same time, it must have the strength to withstand a blow such as what that Kull warrior directed at your arms. Brightsteel might be strong enough, but I'm puzzled as to how I could achieve the malleability I desire. Could I somehow infuse a cloth with it? What other substance has the necessary strength without the weight, rigidity, and density of steel?" She muttered to herself, weighing possibilities.

Rhunön was staring vacantly in Willow's direction. Suddenly her eyes focused and she stepped forward, taking Willow's left hand and carefully examining her wedding ring. She looked at Sunset then asked, "Is this one of your dragon's scales?"

"Yes," Willow said. "And I made Varhog one from his dragon. I was able to sing it into this shape because it is a naturally occurring material from a living creature. At least, that's why I _think_ I could. It seemed to work, whether I understood the reasoning behind it or not."

"Impressive," Rhunön said. "I never thought to sing to something that didn't have any perceptible energy, but I suppose these scales _do_ grow with the dragons. Interesting. Perhaps this could be an option for me, but it's still much too hard and inflexible. This coat needs to move with you as easily as what you are now wearing. Some combination of the two, if sung to and forged at the appropriate stages, might yield satisfactory results. Some type of mail, but with links so fine and thin as to be almost weightless and to move like silk threads. Silk threads. Now there's another idea. Spider silk is stronger than the strongest steel of an equivalent width. Hmm. I need to consider this matter at length. This armor needs to have the ability to withstand massive brute force. With pressure against it, it would need to contract to a density of the thickest shield—despite its feather-light feel and thinness—with immeasurable resistant capacity . . ." She continued on in this manner, talking to herself as she came up with more and more specifications.

When she looked up several minutes later, Rhunön jumped. "I had almost forgotten you were here. Forgive me," she apologized curtly. "I have never contemplated armor such as this."

"We can leave you now," Willow suggested.

"Yes," Rhunön agreed. "Rest well, Willow. At least you and your mate should return at dawn, though you others are also certainly welcome. Until then." Her chin sank to her chest, and she clasped her hands behind her back as she moved slowly back toward her forge, muttering to herself once more. She did not enter the structure but swerved around it, heading into the ancient woods beyond her atrium and gradually disappearing in the gloom.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains brief discussion of a mature love scene.


	25. The Menoa Tree

25\. The Menoa Tree

Eragon left Rhunön's atrium with Arya still in his arms. "Where shall we stay, my love?" he wondered. "The tree house would fit us, but not both dragons."

"Let's stay in Tialdarí Hall," Arya said. "Our dragons will do fine not being right with us. I have missed the ancestral dwellings of my family. All of the years I was queen, I stayed in the Head Rider's tree house with Fírnen so we could always be right next to each other. Perhaps it also had something to do with knowing you stayed there and slept in that bed, though I never would have admitted it at the time."

"Last time we were there together our relationship was much different, wasn't it?" Eragon mused.

"Indeed," Arya agreed.

"Do you suppose the elves will resent the fact that you didn't reveal your full reason for leaving?" Eragon asked. "It's probably now obvious that I had something to do with it." He smiled at the way his words sounded.

"I don't think so," Arya said, also smiling. "Resentment isn't common among the elves, as it is considered impolite. And the fact that we have conceived will surely provide adequate redemptive measure, should any hard feelings exist." She kissed his bearded cheek, and Eragon turned his face to reciprocate on her lips.

"I know you're weary, my love," Eragon said, "but if I continue to carry you, do you object to taking a little walk with me?"

"Not at all," Arya replied. "Where are we going?"

"The Menoa tree," Eragon said simply.

"Why there?" she wondered.

"Have I ever told you of my experience with the Menoa tree when I asked her to search under her roots for the brightsteel Rhunön needed to forge Bris . . . my sword?"

"I only know that you tried to communicate with her and when she ignored you, Saphira bit and burned her. In the end, I know she gave you the brightsteel. Was there more to it than that?"

"Slightly," Eragon said. "I promised we would heal her if that would satisfy her, but instead she asked if I would give her what she wanted. I immediately vowed I would, but she never revealed what that was. I've tried on another occasion to discover her meaning so I can keep my word, but she has never shared what she wants. When I came before leaving Alagaёsia, she only said, 'Go,' like she thought the matter was settled, but I don't. I'm going to try again."

Since he had been walking all the while—down the paths thick with nettles, currant bushes, and ever-denser trunks of craggy trees—they were now not far from the outermost visible roots of the gigantic tree's huge network. As Eragon advanced into the clearing within which the Menoa tree stood, he carefully stepped over and around the roots blanketing the ground, so he would maintain his balance and footing with Arya in his arms. By walking along the length of a particularly wide root, they soon reached the massive trunk, thicker than a hundred of its neighbors combined.

Eragon stood on the twelve-foot high root and kept Arya in his arms, leaning forward until his forehead rested against the trunk. He mentally touched the vast consciousness of the Menoa tree, including Arya in his message. _Linnёa. Honored Menoa tree. It is I, Eragon Shadeslayer. I have come to fulfill my promise to you that I would give you what you want. Hear me, Linnёa! I wish to keep my word. Tell me what it is you want, and I will do all within my power to give it to you._

He ended his communication and waited patiently for many long minutes. Eventually he lifted his head and gazed at Arya, continuing to wait for the Menoa tree to answer him. Eragon studied Arya's lovely face for another long while. He had every part of it memorized—her high cheekbones, round chin, and delicate lips, which he brushed with his own. He pulled back and raised his eyes to hers, losing himself in the shimmering emerald depths that were so ancient and wise.

Arya smiled faintly, and Eragon wondered, _What's funny?_

The beautiful music of her mind swelled with humor as she showed him an image of what his forehead looked like.

Eragon grinned at the deep, motley pattern of indentations in his skin where he had rested it against the rough bark. "It's the new fashion," he said seriously. Arya giggled, and he chuckled softly. "I love that sound." She nodded her agreement that she also loved _his_ laugh and rested her forehead against his cheek.

After half an hour of hearing nothing from the Menoa tree, Eragon turned around and sat with his back to the trunk of the tree. He released his hold on Támerlein, making sure it dropped harmlessly to the ground below and keeping Arya cradled safely in his arms. "I suppose she's not going to answer," Eragon said. "Shall we stay here for a time? It's so peaceful."

"Absolutely," Arya agreed, nestling her face into his neck and breathing deeply. "Being here reminds me of the first time we came here. We sat on a root such as this, though we were side by side. I think I prefer this arrangement."

Eragon smiled. "As do I, my beautiful wife. You told me the story of the Menoa tree, in a way I interpreted as a warning. Is that what you intended?"

"It was," Arya confirmed. "It seemed a perfect illustration of the woes that can accompany a relationship between two with an age discrepancy such as ours."

"I remember you saying, 'They weren't suited for each other.' I wanted desperately to disagree with you, but I thought it unwise. It wasn't long after—following my foolish though honest confession to you during the Blood-oath Celebration—that you told me we weren't meant for each other and that I must cease pursuing you. You insisted my young age and your old one would never change, which indeed they haven't. Does our age difference ever bother you now?"

"Never," Arya said fervently. "I love you so much, Eragon. I'm so grateful you remained faithful in your feelings for me. It took me so long to come around, but you're the best man I have ever known, and I'm so honored to have your love. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you in Carvahall." He felt her tears on his neck, and he stroked her hair to comfort her.

Eragon didn't want her to be solemn so he teased, "You've never felt the urge to stab me in my sleep, as did Linnёa?"

"Of course not!" Arya cried, smiling against him. "Don't even suggest it!"

"I suppose Linnёa only did that because her young lover abandoned her for another. You know I'll never love another, much less abandon you for her. You have always been and will always be my only love."

"I know," Arya said. "And that certainty is the most beautiful knowledge I have ever possessed."

Eragon knew just the question that would cheer her, so he asked, "How is the baby, my love?"

His query had the intended effect. Arya lifted her head and gave him a radiant smile. "Wonderful, Eragon! So big and healthy. I can't believe how close we are to meeting our baby. Feel with your mind, only take care not to discover the sex. That would be more than obvious at this stage of development."

Eragon reached for his baby with his mind, observing the amazing growth of their child. "It appears so much like a person, but every part of it is rendered in perfect, miniature detail. It's so miraculous, Arya," he reverently stated. "Your body has engaged in the most intricate labor I can imagine."

"Yes, it's the most humbling, awe-inspiring thing I have ever been privileged to do. That it all happens without any conscious thought of my own still boggles my mind."

When the baby moved within her womb, Eragon placed one of his hands over the area so he could feel it. "Hello, little one," he greeted. "We're so excited to meet you, and the time is fast approaching. Your father is so glad to see you doing so well in there, growing strong and healthy." He gently stroked Arya's belly and began singing the cradle song, his most frequent lullaby. He felt Arya's eyes on him but didn't turn to meet her gaze until he had finished.

When he looked over, her expression was full of tender adoration. "Make love to me, Eragon."

"Here?" he wondered. "Now? You're weary, and I worry for your comfort."

"I feel weary no longer and your body will cushion me. Please, my darling. Being in the forest reminds me of our first time making love."

"You never need beg, Arya. I'll make love to you whenever and wherever you wish." Eragon unbuckled his belt, letting Brisingr drop down next to Arya's sword. "Would you like me to undress you and the other way around?" he asked, wanting her to be happy. Sometimes she was too eager for such gestures. Arya nodded, her eyes fathomless as he regarded her. "You go first," he suggested. "Then you won't get cold. As soon as you're bare, you'll be able to share my warmth."

Arya moved her eyes to focus on her task. Since she took her time, Eragon resumed his study of her face. With her eyes down, her long eyelashes cast a shadow across her cheeks. He lifted one hand to cup her delicate jaw, and she leaned her face into his palm, closing her eyes in blissful acceptance, which forced several tears to fall between them. "You're weeping?" he asked gently.

"Because I'm so overwhelmed, Eragon," Arya said, raising her eyes. "Overwhelmed by your love for me and my love for you and our baby. I feel amazingly blessed. It's spilling out of me."

"Liquid love," Eragon teased with a faint smile, brushing the tears from her cheeks. He leaned forward, shrugging out of his warm traveling coat as Arya pushed it off his shoulders, then lifting his arms so she could pull his unlaced shirt over his head.

Before allowing him to reciprocate, Arya leaned forward and buried her face in his chest. "It's the closest thing to liquid love I suppose we'll ever find," she said. "I can produce it almost at will when you're around."

Eragon held her against him and promised, "Which I always will be." Arya sat back so he could unbutton her coat, and Eragon mirrored her actions of removing it and her shirt. He admired her body for a few moments, affectionately caressing her distended abdomen before encircling her in his arms. "I love how soft you are," he murmured. "You're exquisite, my love. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I considered you the fairest woman I have ever seen. At the time, I'd only seen the women in Carvahall and a few here and there during my travels. But since then, I've seen a great many women, and none have ever come close to changing that first impression. I'm humbled beyond words that you are now my wife and I have your permission to admire you like this. I adore you, beautiful Arya."

"None have?" Arya wondered quietly, and Eragon picked up on the worry in her voice, though she was trying to hide it. "Not even Maehrí?"

Eragon pulled her back with his hands around her upper arms and made the most ridiculous face he could by flaring his nostrils, puckering his lips, and crossing his eyes. Arya giggled at his expression. Then, in a voice of exaggerated slowness and stupidity, he drawled, "Duh, Mi . . . ? Mee . . . ? May-rhee? Who's May-rhee?"

Arya laughed delightedly. Eragon cleared the silly look from his face and chuckled with her. Then he regarded her solemnly for a moment, searching her eyes. "No, not even Maehrí. I barely even see other women, Arya. And if I do happen to notice one, all I can think about is how flawed her appearance is because she doesn't have perfectly slanted black eyebrows," he ran his fingers up them, "a thin, straight, dainty nose," he trailed one finger down it, "high, angled cheekbones," he swept his fingers up again, "such an endearing, round, feminine chin," he cupped it gently, "perfectly delicious, desirable lips," he kissed them, "and above all, unfathomable, sparkling, mesmerizing emerald eyes." He finished by gazing intently into them. "In my book, _y_ _ou_ are perfection, Arya. Always have been, always will be. Is that good enough?"

Arya leaned her face into him, and Eragon once again felt the wetness of her tears. "Thank you, my husband," she whispered in a muffled voice. "You know I feel exactly the same." He nodded before pulling her back so he could kiss her, pouring every feeling of love and devotion he had ever felt for her into it. She hummed her perfect satisfaction and snuggled her torso and arms into him, returning his kiss with patient tenderness.

They spent plenty of time kissing and caressing. Eragon soon informed her, "I'm ready whenever you are, my love, but we can carry on like this for as long as you desire. I never tire of your body."

"Let's join and then carry on," Arya suggested in a voice high with passion. "You needn't fully remove your pants if sitting on this bark would be uncomfortable."

"No minor discomfort ever reaches me when I'm swallowed in your love, Arya," he gently reassured. "I will nonetheless do whatever you wish."

"I also worry for your comfort, Eragon."

"Thank you, my love." He made the necessary adjustments to both of their pants so they could share the beloved moment of union. She stared into his eyes, and he smiled at her look of intense pleasure and satisfaction, sure his own eyes must look exactly the same.

They made love under the sprawling branches of the Menoa tree, their expression of physical love full of tender adoration, devotion, and passion. They laughed quietly after their shared release when their baby moved forcibly within her womb.

"That was powerful!" Arya cried in a breathless voice. "It felt like it turned all the way around."

"Aye," Eragon panted, struggling to slow his pounding heart.

She lay still against him, quieting her breathing before whispering, "Thank you, Eragon. I love that. And I love you."

"Thank _you,_ Arya," he replied just as softly. "I will always be yours."

They were both startled to suddenly hear the voice of Linnёa, the Menoa tree, in their minds. _Thank you, Rider,_ she thought. _When I probed your mind at our first meeting, I saw your deep feelings for this daughter of the forest, and I feared what might come of it. You know my history and how a young man wooed me only to spurn me for another, younger woman. I knew this sad fate might also befall you or this woman if she ever changed her opinion of you, but my fears were groundless. What I wanted in return for unearthing the brightsteel was for you to remain true in your love, proving to me that all men are not as fickle as the one I loved, though they might be young in years. You have demonstrated the very type of devotion and loyalty I was denied, and I thank you for bringing such happiness to one of my own. Your undying commitment to this elf-child has also provided the foundation whereon she was able to conceive, another joy I was denied in life, mostly through my own doing. I was old before I felt the yearning to have a family and the opportunity was then beyond me. You have more than fulfilled your obligation to me, Rider, and the good that will come from your union has not ended. Thank you, Rider. . . ._ she repeated, her voice fading until it was gone.

Eragon stared at Arya with raised eyebrows. "Loving _you_ was what the Menoa tree wanted? She might have told me it was something so easy." He grinned. "Then I wouldn't have needed to worry all these years that I had an unfulfilled obligation. I like to settle my debts." He then laughed. "Well, I'm glad I've shown her that not all star-struck young men are as fickle as her doomed lover. Yes, daughter of the forest, I will always be yours." He repeated his earlier words, sealing them with an adoring kiss on Arya's upturned lips. She closed her eyes and drifted into her waking dreams soon after. He pulled her coat back over her bare upper body, sliding his arms under it to hold her close.

As she rested, Eragon let his awareness extend throughout the clearing, observing all of the perceptible sensory stimuli. The scent of fresh pine needles filled the air, but the strongest source was Arya's silky hair, and he buried his face in it, breathing evenly to fill his nose with her beloved smell.

Eragon's heart ached as it had after his fateful confession to Arya on a starry night in this very forest, though this time it wasn't due to unfulfilled longing, but rather the consuming love her felt for her—undying, eternal love, just as the Menoa tree had said.

-:-:-:-


	26. Scandalized

26\. Scandalized

Before any of the Riders returned to her dwelling the next morning, Rhunön was awake, having slept very little all that night. She had thought most carefully on the matter of Willow's protective coat and believed she had arrived at a possible method for accomplishing her desires, but it would require the cooperation of a specific creature, which would have no reason to offer its assistance and therefore most likely wouldn't.

Rhunön thought about Willow and how uncommon she was. To befriend and fall in love with an Urgal ram was an impressive feat in and of itself. To then conceive twins with him, learn his language, and in all other ways appear to be extraordinary only added to her worth in Rhunön's eyes. She sensed that there was even more to the unique human and determined to come to know her better. Perhaps Willow herself would be the means of garnering the collaboration Rhunön's idea required.

Rhunön was then anxious for dawn to arrive so she could commence her design. To help her patience, she began readying the forge for the crafting of the Urgal's weapon.

-:-:-

All six of the Riders returned at the appointed time, deciding independently that this was the most exciting event happening that day. Eragon and Arya also thought they might be needed to spar with Varhog and Willow. Hanin and Maehrí arrived at the same time from different directions in an amusing manner.

They were each running as swiftly as the wind, as elves normally do, though they were apparently not paying as much attention as elves normally do, for when they converged in front of Rhunön's open-walled smithy, they collided with great force.

While reaching out to steady her, Hanin cried, "Maehrí! I cry your pardon! How senseless of me!" He was panting slightly, evidence that he had been running a long while.

Maehrí was also breathless as she replied, "I am equally to blame, Hanin. My mind was elsewhere." She cut off abruptly, seeming to realize for the first time that his arms were around her and that it might be obvious where exactly her mind had been. She cleared her throat, attempting to back away, but Hanin only grinned and held her in place.

"It's no matter, Maehrí," Hanin lightly reassured. "If it means that we ended up as we now are, I'm glad for our preoccupation. What _were_ you thinking about?"

Maehrí hardly knew what to think of Hanin's flirtatious manner. Not only was it extremely uncharacteristic for an elf in general, but it was so contrary to how he had ever before behaved. Her reply betrayed her confusion, "Um . . ." she began, staring at his chest as her emotions warred. She desired to be both honest and proper, equally important traits to an elf, but she couldn't see how to accomplish both at that moment. Hanin waited patiently, and after a time, Maehrí decided her words thus far might have already betrayed the truth, so she went with honesty. "You, Hanin. I was thinking of you." She looked cautiously back at his face.

Hanin raised his slanted black eyebrows in mock disbelief, though his eyes softened at her confession. "Is that so?" he said. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Maehrí, for I can see admitting that causes you embarrassment, _I_ was thinking of _you._ " He was silent a moment as she stared at him. Then his teasing returned. "What do you suppose that means?"

Maehrí smiled somewhat, feeling bold enough from his forward manner to tease a little herself, though she was also still being honest. "Perhaps it means we like one another. Hardly surprising, at least for my part, considering how handsome and kind you are."

-:-:-

Now it was Hanin's turn to be surprised and not only in jest. "Truly?" he said. "If you mean to imply that I might not feel the same, then you're mistaken. I've never beheld a lovelier face nor met someone with a gentler heart. That _I_ might have won your fancy is a greater honor than I feel worthy." He brought one hand carefully to her cheek, leaving the other at her waist where he had caught her. "What are we to do?" He kept asking questions that required her to reveal her feelings, for he was perfectly aware of his own. But Hanin knew he was already being far bolder than Maehrí was comfortable with, something he could no doubt attribute to his time on the Isle.

Maehrí did not withdraw from his touch nor lower her eyes, as he expected. "I hardly know," she replied. "Is the next step in matters such as these not the male's responsibility?"

Hanin grinned again, seeing in her eyes that she loved it. "Thinking ahead to that already? Although perhaps I misunderstand, in which case it might be best not to say anymore, to avoid embarrassing you even further."

Her eyes remained fixed on his as Maehrí earnestly informed him, "I _want_ you to ask, Hanin."

"Is that so?" Hanin said again, suddenly feeling the more awkward of the two. "In that case, I will, but not now. We have a most eager audience, and _that_ question is one I would prefer to ask without spectators, especially when I'm still unsure as to whether I correctly understand you." Her eyes left little room for doubt, but Hanin hardly dared hope that Maehrí might be insinuating what she seemed to be. He released her face and waist, hoping the cessation of contact wouldn't somehow break the spell of the moment.

Maehrí didn't step back, as she had tried once before, but kept her gaze on his face. Hanin noticed her hand twitch slightly as if she wished to hold his, but she was too civil to initiate the touch. Using proper manners, he extended his hand and asked, "May I?"

Maehrí accepted his hand, smiling shyly, which made her all the more breathtaking. Hanin's breath _did_ catch, and he followed her face with his eyes as she turned toward the others.

When he also looked over, Hanin immediately noticed how joyful Arya and Willow were, each smiling in open delight. Eragon and Varhog were grinning in knowing understanding. Hanin couldn't keep a similar expression from crossing his face as he raised his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly toward Maehrí as if to say, 'Did you _see_ that? Can you believe my good fortune?' Both men nodded encouragingly.

Rhunön's reaction was most amusing of all. She sourly grunted, "I must be getting slow in my advanced age. I waited too long to make my feelings known, and now the handsomest elf I have ever known has bestowed his affection on another." She grimaced, but her eyes revealed her approbation.

Everyone laughed, and Hanin said, "Come now, honored one. I know you'll never love another like you do your forge and hammer. How would I feel in a few months when you abandoned me for them once again?"

Rhunön's face twitched, and though she tried most admirably to suppress it, she failed. A bark of rough laughter escaped her mouth, and once it started, she allowed it to continue unhindered for some moments. When she was able to regain her composure, she wiped her eyes and, with a still-merry expression, said, "Well, we've lost enough time as it is, though it was on a most worthy cause. Come, Varhog. Let me see how you fight."

-:-:-

Eragon stepped forward to volunteer himself as Varhog's opponent, and Hanin offered Varhog his sword. Varhog was an excellent swordsman, having learned alongside Eragon on the Isle for nearly the same length of time. He hadn't possessed the same powerful drive toward mastery—using it as an attempt to forget Arya—as Eragon, but he had nonetheless been fiercely determined to excel in all areas as a Rider. The main problem he had faced was having a blade large enough. He would use the largest sword from their collection of Rider's blades, but none of the ancient Riders had ever been seven feet tall.

Varhog looked forward to having a sword that fit his height, though he knew it would be a formidable weapon and he hardly knew what good it would do. As Willow had said, the main uses he could anticipate were training and sparring on the Isle.

He and Eragon faced off, as they had countless times before, though not recently. Actually, once Varhog thought about it, it had been some years since he had even practiced swordsmanship, since he so often fought with Willow instead. His main lessons had been in his first years on the Isle before Willow had even arrived. He worried slightly that he would be rusty, but it was of little matter. Eragon had always been his superior, even when Varhog had practiced daily.

They had at it with enthusiasm, grateful for the physical exercise, as they had been sitting for so many days on their flight to Ellesméra. Eragon was still superior, but Varhog held his own, tapping Eragon with his sword once for every few times Eragon did the same. Varhog put his enormous strength to good use, and it was gratifying to know that he didn't have to rein it in at all for the sake of the sword. More than once he slashed Brisingr from Eragon's hands, driving it to the ground with his sheer raw power. _Unlike_ on the Isle, where such tactics had been met with frustration and rebuke, now Eragon simply laughed good-naturedly and carried on after retrieving his sword.

-:-:-

Rhunön observed intently, but she had such an expert eye that the task did not require her full attention. She sidled up next to Willow, who was watching the match with the others, and casually said, "I wish to know more about you, Willow. Tell me of yourself."

Willow turned to her in surprise. "What do you want to know, honored one?"

"Anything. Everything," Rhunön replied in an offhand manner, trying to appear less interested than she truly was.

"Very well," Willow said slowly. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Start at the beginning," Rhunön suggested. So Willow did, telling Rhunön of her origins; her childhood; her mother, brother, and father; how they all died; how Sunset hatched for her; of her time on the Isle; her friendship with Varhog; the role she had played in establishing peace and brotherly regard between the Riders; and so on. The two fighting seemed content to carry on a long while, apparently enjoying the exercise and challenge immensely.

Rhunön continued to observe Varhog's fighting style, but she had already gathered more than enough information to know what his blade should be like, so she then watched his body to help her anticipate how to use it through his mind. He was so much larger and stronger than she that she knew it would take some adjusting. But since the men were happy to carry on, she carried on with Willow, listening raptly to every animated word Willow shared.

When Willow seemed to run out of things to say, Rhunön prompted her with, "Tell me of your time among the Urgralgra."

That was more than enough to get Willow to talk for another hour, and yet the men continued.

Around this time, Hanin and Maehrí took up their own match off to one side, something they had done numerous times in Rhunön's atrium. Arya gladly lent Hanin Támerlein, since his blade was being used. As the two elves began, Eragon and Varhog paused long enough to strip off their sodden shirts, mop their faces, and toss them to the side so they could take up their efforts once more.

When Willow once again felt silent, Rhunön pressed, "Do you happen to like animals?" She hoped her question wouldn't seem odd.

Willow didn't seem to think it odd. "Oh yes!" she cried. "And it has only increased since becoming a Rider. I was mesmerized when I learned how to observe the life force and energy of living creatures. It made my interest so much deeper and more substantial when I could recognize the valiant efforts of the tiniest creatures. They toil so untiringly to fulfill the measure of their existence. The strangest thing happened in Varhog's village . . ." And she delved into a fascinating tale of how she had befriended a pack of wolves intent on killing her. "It's amazing!" Willow concluded after her lengthy explanation, which had been punctuated by many pointed questions from Rhunön.

"Yes, I agree," Rhunön said, attempting to suppress her excitement. Her plan just might work after all. By then the men finally showed signs of tiring, and they approached the grassy area where the women were sitting.

Eragon wiped his brow with the back of his arm. "Sorry, ladies," he said. "We got carried away, didn't we?"

"Not at all," Arya assured him. "I enjoyed the spectacle immeasurably. Even more so after you took off your shirt." She smiled sweetly, and Willow nodded her agreement.

Varhog said, "I'm surprised I could keep at it so long. It feels like I haven't exercised that hard in months."

"Really?" Willow asked in mild surprise. "We must have different definitions of intensive exercise."

"That must be it," Varhog allowed with a grin. "You do keep me quite busy most nights."

"Of course!" Eragon realized. "That explains it. I hardly felt winded at all. Thank you for helping me maintain my stamina, my love." Arya reached her hands up toward him, and he pulled her up. She put her arms around him.

"Arya," Eragon objected. "I'm a dripping, smelly mess. Don't get yourself dirty."

"Mm-mm," Arya denied. "This is just how I like you best. Although it's even better when _I'm_ responsible for getting you this way." Eragon creased his brow in confusion, looking hopelessly at Varhog.

Varhog chuckled sympathetically. "I don't understand it either," he admitted. "Willow says the same thing whenever I smell horrible."

"Like now," Willow said with a teasing smile. She had awkwardly gotten to her feet, taking Varhog's hand when he offered it to her, and did just as Arya was doing. "But you do smell slightly different than after my favorite form of exercise. Now we know what to do with our husbands whenever we want a midafternoon nap."

"Yes, we must simply send them to find one another," Arya agreed. "But only after giving them a good warm-up round. I can't ever seem to lie down without wanting some time with Eragon."

Willow giggled. "We'd best not dwell on it much longer. It may lead to some awkward moments for Hanin and Maehrí. Wasn't that perfectly wonderful earlier?" She was addressing Arya, unaware with her view blocked by Varhog's huge body that her words carried to the two dueling elves, though they were on the other side of the clearing.

"Perfectly," Arya said, giving Eragon a quick kiss as he began to pull away.

"Rhunön-elda, is there a place nearby where we might find some water?" Eragon asked. "I'm so thirsty."

"Another similarity," Willow murmured. But all who were near had ears keen enough to hear, and Eragon grinned.

"There's obviously drinking water in my kitchen," Rhunön began, "but I don't feel like these dear ladies. I don't want you in there in your current state, so make your way to the stream in those woods and wash up while you're at it." She pointed in the right direction, and the men laughed appreciatively as they turned to go.

Rhunön then stood, walking over to a couple of close-growing trees near one half wall of her forge and beginning to sing to the lowest branches.

-:-:-

Willow and Arya sat back down, this time facing toward Hanin and Maehrí. As she pulled her knees up toward her chest, wrapping her arms around them, Willow groaned, "So much extra weight. These will no doubt be big babies with such a huge father. I hope I can carry them to full term and bear them without too much difficulty."

"Willow, you'll do amazingly," Arya reassured. "You now know nearly as much as I about labor and childbirth, and I'll be there to help you. It will be so wonderful to meet these babies." Arya rubbed her belly and smiled lovingly as her baby moved inside, making an obvious lump stand out under her shirt. "Hello, baby," she murmured.

"It looks so much like the Rimgar," Willow commented on the two fighting elves, who looked as if they were dancing, thanks to their natural grace.

Arya smiled in amusement. "Do you remember when we fought on the Isle and I broke your thumbs?"

"How could I forget?" Willow cried.

Arya proceeded to tell Willow of the morning she and Eragon had done the Rimgar together in their room, including all that followed.

Willow nodded. "It's unbelievable how powerful the pull is sometimes. Lust seems a good way to put it, though I've always felt that no matter how passionate we are, it's still pure and appropriate, since we're married and so wholly committed to one another. It's always very selfless for us, though it's also immensely self-gratifying."

"That's exactly how I feel too. Eragon was so apologetic that morning, feeling it must have somehow been wrong because of how focused on himself he was, but I just couldn't see how something that amazing and binding could be wrong, especially since we had waited until we were married." She paused for a moment, laughing softly at a move Maehrí made that was obviously flirtatious. Then she said, "I've always wondered what you meant when you told me I should have seen what a simple kiss did to you at first."

"Oh yes," Willow said with an indulgent laugh. "That led to some really interesting experiments." And she explained to Arya exactly what she meant, recounting some of her and Varhog's more memorable moments.

"How interesting," Arya mused. "Is it the same for all Urgals?"

"Myrin assures me it is," Willow said.

"But I've seen you kiss often, and it seems not to be a problem," Arya pointed out.

"Yes, after that night when I had the most powerful reaction, Varhog gained absolute control over when he would make love to me. He knew control would never again be hard to come by when his semen nearly killed me." Willow shuddered slightly.

"That makes sense," Arya said. "I take it you haven't had problems since your treatment?"

"No, none at all. That expression is as wonderful as ever. Thank you so much. You gave me back my life. I don't know how I would have endured if my reaction had only gotten stronger. It was physically agonizing for me and emotionally agonizing for both of us, but especially Varhog. And I can't imagine if we'd had to leave each other."

"I'm so glad I was able to help," Arya said quietly. With her eyes fixed purposefully on the two fighting elves she then asked, "I remember you telling Yvenna during her Preparing the Bride ritual that you've used your mouths instead of your bodies. How was that?" She smiled slightly as Hanin nearly dropped his sword, and Maehrí stumbled, almost colliding with him. They were the first clumsy movements from either of them, and they both briefly looked over at her. Arya's smile widened. Willow didn't seem to notice, perhaps because she had rested her cheek against her knees and was looking at Arya.

"Amazing," Willow answered. "It was so intense. The only thing I didn't like was that I couldn't touch Varhog very much or kiss him at all. Since that first time, we've enjoyed that on a number of occasions, though I still prefer the more traditional arrangements. Have you tried it yet?"

"Not yet, but Eragon suggested it once as part of a long list of ideas we were coming up with to be more creative. Actually, you indirectly inspired us after using the chair. We tried _that_ by the way, and it was incredible. Especially for Eragon. He experienced the longest release he ever has. Funny it happened right after all that joking about Varhog's semen." Arya couldn't help but smile again at the reactions of Hanin and Maehrí.

"I'm so glad _I_ was able to help," Willow said lightly, repeating Arya's phrase of a moment earlier. "So Eragon suggested it. Are you nervous? If you like that part of his body, you'll like it, trust me. It makes me feel so powerful to bring about that response in Varhog, although I can from pretty much any position. And it's fun to taste it. At least, I like it."

"Really?" Arya said. "What does it taste like?"

"Not much really. Slightly metallic and salty. But it's not unpleasant. I'm sure it has something to do with how healthy Varhog is, and Eragon doesn't even eat meat. Maybe I just like it because it doesn't hurt me anymore." Willow seemed to be enjoying the conversation, and Arya was too, immensely in fact, but for reasons different from Willow's. The two dueling elves were hanging on their every word, though they attempted to appear indifferent. Willow asked, "What's your favorite part about it?"

"Everything," Arya said with a laugh. "I can't narrow it down to just one moment." And she listed in specific detail, for the sake of Hanin and Maehrí, every part of making love that she loved, which was all of it. She laughed partway through her account when Hanin actually _did_ drop his sword.

"I couldn't agree more," Willow said. "Those are _my_ favorite parts too. Did you come up with any other interesting ideas?"

"Probably nothing you haven't already tried. On the sofa, on the table. We even joked about doing it in front of everyone. Eragon loved that idea but insisted it not be in the Urgal village. He was sure his pride wouldn't have been able to handle the humiliation after learning what he did about the Urgal rams and their amazing ability. _He_ suggested we do it _here_ in Ellesméra, which got a good laugh out of me. He figured we'd get some properly scandalized expressions here, and I think he was exactly right." Arya said this as she observed both Hanin and Maehrí with just such expressions on their faces. The two had long before removed their topmost shirts, and Arya thought Maehrí was now regretting that decision, since her form was so much more obvious under her fitted sleeveless undershirt.

Maehrí's relief was apparent when she noticed Varhog and Eragon returning and more particularly because Willow and Arya were laboriously making their way to their feet. She withdrew from the fight, swiftly rejoining the other four Riders. Hanin followed after her, amusement and longing in his eyes. After returning Támerlein to Arya, Hanin once again took hold of Maehrí's hand, which she allowed, though she didn't look at him.

"Those were some interesting conversations we just had the unique privilege of overhearing," Hanin quipped. "Such discussions do not often take place in Ellesméra, in public or private."

Arya teased, "They were as much for your benefit as our amusement."

Willow giggled. "I didn't think about how you would be able to hear all of that."

"Well, I must confess that _I_ continued fighting for as long as I did with the hope of hearing more," Hanin said. "The properness of our ways makes it most difficult for an elf to gain much enlightenment about these matters."

"Which should make it even more fun, what with all of the experimenting you would need to do," Willow joked. "If you really want some interesting insight into marital love, you should spend some time with a few married Urgals. With them, it's almost inappropriate _not_ to talk of it."

"You must have fit right in with them, sister," Hanin laughed. "You're always so open about everything. I doubt, however, that there's much even _they_ could add to your priceless evaluation just now."

"Most likely not," Willow agreed. "You need only ever ask, and I'll share as much or as little detail as you might desire. Probably more than you'd care to hear, knowing me."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hanin promised with a grin. "If Maehrí comes to feel such sisterly affection for you as Arya seems to, perhaps _she_ will be the one to benefit from such a discussion."

Arya laughed. "Don't let her timid elven manners deceive you, Hanin. If she's anything like me, her blood will run as hot as an Urgal ram's when she's with the man she desires. Just ask Eragon."

"It's true," Eragon said proudly. "I never would have pictured Arya as such a wild, insatiable lover, but I'm grateful every day. Literally. At least once." Arya blushed slightly and leaned into him. Her blush was nothing, however, compared to Maehrí's.

Eragon softly stroked her cheek. "I love seeing you blush." Hanin looked over at Maehrí, apparently wishing he could do the same.

Rhunön joined them once again, her first words perfect evidence that she too had overheard everything. "Enough of such talk, you young lovebirds," she chided crustily. "I must keep up appearances, and we can't have anyone knowing that old Rhunön secretly enjoys these conversations." Her rough laugh rasped forth, and all the others joined her, though Maehrí only reluctantly.

"I'm sure this next part of the process will only make it all the worse," Rhunön continued ruefully, "when I have to start forging a blade through the body of this enormous specimen of manliness." She looked pointedly at Varhog, who still had his shirt off. "I don't have an apron or jerkin big enough to fit you, young man," she apologized.

"My hide is tough enough," Varhog replied. "The heat won't bother me."

Rhunön looked at Willow. "I can understand why you said what you did. I don't know how any female could resist such massive power."

"You have no idea," Willow agreed fervently. "I'll keep your secret if you help me keep mine. Urgal rams are Alagaёsia's best kept love secret."

Varhog shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Willow in exasperation. Arya knew that his modesty made this talk unwelcome.

"His shyness is a learned behavior," Willow teased. "Most Urgal rams brag from the mountaintops about what fantastic lovers they are, each seeking to best the next with their sounds of passion and feats of love. We had a most amusing demonstration one night. His uncle—now our father, since he joined with Varhog's widowed mother—produced the loudest rumbling as the largest ram. That was a fun night, wasn't it, Yelloweyes?"

"It was, Eartheyes," Varhog allowed. "Thanks to you. Now can we be done talking of this?"

"As you wish, sweetheart," Willow dutifully replied. Then she asked, "Rhunön-elda, may I fight Arya now? I don't know how long it will take you to forge Varhog's blade, but I fear if I wait much longer, I might be unable to, even in a couple of weeks. If you observe me now, will you remember what you need to?"

"Of course I'll remember, Willow," Rhunön said. "And yes, you may. Do you object, princess?"

"Not at all," Arya replied, waiting until Varhog had retrieved Willow's brown sword before unsheathing Támerlein. She and Willow were both tall and strong, standing with perfect posture, so their pregnancies didn't excessively encumber them, at least not in their current stages. They moved with their usual grace as they withdrew a short distance from the others. But they did fight more cautiously out of instinct, knowing that a sharp blow could still inflict damage, especially to a developing fetus or two, even though the blades were dulled with magic.

They only fought for a few minutes, exchanging a flurry of blows and parries, before Arya stopped with a gasp, leaning on her sword and clutching her belly with her free hand. Eragon was by her side in an instant, a look of worry on his face. "Are you well, my love?" he asked as he provided her body with support, which she gratefully accepted.

"Well enough," Arya panted. "My womb tightened, and the baby's heart rate slowed noticeably. I'm always aware of it. It was so powerful. I never would have imagined." She cut off as her face tensed. Eragon took her sword and cast it aside, which didn't even bother Rhunön, so he could gently lift her. "I'm fine," Arya insisted. "It's good to experience this. It will help me prepare. It's just alarming that the baby's heartbeat drops so drastically. It hasn't ever happened before. I wonder if that forceful movement yesterday at the Menoa tree changed its position to somehow create this response. I'm sure these are nothing compared to true opening surges during labor, and I worry to think what this might mean."

"Was that sufficient?" Willow asked Rhunön in concern.

"More than," Rhunön said tersely. "Take her home and let her lie down on her left side," she instructed Eragon. "Make sure she has plenty to drink. A restless womb is a sign of dehydration. Also make sure she is well-fed. And whatever you do, don't make love to her for a while, no matter what she says!" Eragon nodded gratefully and strode swiftly away.

-:-:-

Turning to Hanin and Maehrí, Rhunön said, "You two may stay or go. Thank you for lending Varhog your sword, Hanin. We'll begin now on his blade."

Hanin inclined his head in acknowledgement then glanced at Maehrí. "What do you prefer, Maehrí?"

"Either way," she said uncertainly. "It's up to you."

"Let's go, then," Hanin said more decisively. "Farewell, Willow and Varhog." He handed Maehrí her fitted jacket, which he had brought with them when they finished their sword fight, pulled his own shirt on, and took her hand, walking with her into the forest.


	27. Ask

27\. Ask

Hanin and Maehrí walked straight into the woods away from Rhunön's dwelling. After enough time had passed that Maehrí no longer felt embarrassed by what had occurred there, she found the courage to look over at Hanin. He was looking back at her, and she felt the familiar nervous tingling in her stomach she had felt the first time she ever saw him. Every girl must feel it. He was so incredibly handsome, how could they not? But in spite of his dashing good looks, he was never arrogant or vain, always kind and wise—a perfect gentleman.

Maehrí felt the profound honor of having a dragon hatch for her, and the bond with Silvan was indescribable, but almost as soon as she had even a small chance to get to know Hanin, she realized _that_ was an equally great honor. But Maehrí had sternly told herself that she must never develop feelings for Hanin, as unbecoming as that would be to him, for he had always been the perfect mentor—aloof and formal—teaching her the ways of the Riders with efficiency and logic. Everything about elves was logical, so why would he be any different?

But that was precisely the reason Maehrí had been so shocked at his transformation the day before, when once again in the presence of other Riders. To hear him laugh was almost more of a surprise than to discover the unlikely truth about Willow and Varhog. Then, on top of that, to have him joke around and tease? Maehrí had been dumbfounded, and it had been impossible for her to reconcile the man she thought she knew with the one she was now seeing.

-:-:-

Maehrí looked away from him as soon as she noticed his eyes on her, and Hanin regarded her while she mused, wishing he could know what she was thinking. If she were Willow, he would simply ask and she would say, but Maehrí was an elf, and a very stereotypical one. But at the same time, she was so extraordinary to Hanin as to be more precious than any other. Thinking back to earlier when she had confessed to liking him, he thought he had a chance of hearing her honest answer so he asked, "What has your mind so wholly occupied, Maehrí?"

"Need you even ask?" Maehrí replied with a small smile.

"I suppose so," Hanin said ruefully. "For I cannot guess by observing your ear."

She giggled then quickly bit her lip. Hanin knew she would think giggling an improper expression, but he loved the lilting, musical sound and her reaction to it so much that he laughed softly. She peeked over at him, apparently liking the sound from him just as much.

"You should be able to guess by using your brain," Maehrí teased.

"But I'm a male," Hanin pointed out. "My brain doesn't reach a hundred conclusions at the same time simply with a single word or look. I need things spelled out for me. At least, I want them spelled out for me so I needn't wonder and guess."

Maehrí sighed. "Very well, though I don't know how to overcome my awkwardness. My mind was once again wholly occupied with thoughts of you, Hanin."

"Hardly a very engrossing topic," Hanin laughed. "At least not in my mind."

"For a female it is," Maehrí objected. "Even if you weren't impossibly handsome, your kindness, gentleness, and wisdom would capture any woman's heart. Perhaps Arya should have been the one to deliver the egg. I would not have fallen in love with _her_." Maehrí creased her brow in consternation at the involuntary confession that had just slipped out of her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" Hanin wondered. "That you just admitted you have fallen in love with me?" She nodded timidly. "Maehrí," he gently scolded. "Those are the most welcome words I have ever heard. You needn't apologize."

Maehrí glanced over again. "Well then, I'm sorry for apologizing," she said with a small smile.

Her timid manner coupled with her timid teasing made her seem so vulnerable and filled Hanin's heart with tender adoration. He knew what an amazingly strong and fearless women Maehrí was, and yet she seemed unable to carry that into this arena. He couldn't resist reaching out and wrapping his arms around her in a gentle embrace. "You're so sweet, Maehrí. I hope you do not mind this gesture, nor these words when I say them. I love you."

Maehrí shook her head where it was resting next to his chest. "But how, Hanin? Only yesterday you were as stern and detached as ever, never revealing even the slightest clue you might feel this way. Do not tell me that you have come to develop these feelings between then and now."

"No, Maehrí. You insist you find me handsome. Well, let me assure you that is _nothing_ compared to what every man thinks when he first sees your stunning face. I was no different. It might seem shallow, but my heart and soul were immediately gripped by your breathtaking beauty. I couldn't help it, but what I could help was that I wouldn't allow it to interfere with my duty to you. So as a defense against your unbearable attraction, I put up high, thick walls around my heart to guard it so I wouldn't do something foolish like fall in love with the newest Rider because she is unbelievably gorgeous.

"Willow and Arya saw it that very first day I introduced you to them, but they kindly refrained from suggesting anything along those lines. Why do you think I always scryed them alone after that? I couldn't have you realizing how I had come to feel almost the moment I laid eyes on you. Willow would have delighted in making it painfully obvious, as I'm sure you can imagine.

"But my efforts didn't work of course. At least, not after I was able to come to know what an amazing person you are despite your beauty. Most women—if blessed with such a face—would be vain, coldhearted, and selfish. They would be intent on serving their own whims, knowing they could get anything they wanted from any male they happened across, reveling in the fact they were the immediate envy of every female. But you're not like that. Not even close. You're so sweet and gentle, so humble and modest, so selfless and thoughtful. You're strong and courageous. You're a skilled fighter—"

"Hanin, please stop," Maehrí murmured. "You're making me blush."

Hanin pulled back, insisting, "I want to see. It enhances your already impossible loveliness in such an endearing way." He put a hand to her cheek—as Eragon had done with Arya—and loved how warm it felt. "I know what he meant," he said to himself.

"What do you mean?" Maehrí wondered in confusion.

"When Eragon said he loved seeing Arya blush," Hanin explained. "I know what he means. I love it too. Seeing you blush."

"Then you must have been abundantly gratified earlier," Maehrí said in exasperation.

"What?" Hanin teased. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that interesting discussion?"

"I can honestly say I didn't enjoy it. At least, not with you right there. How could I not think of everything they were saying with regards to you? It was painfully uncomfortable."

"So the thought of being with me in that way makes you uncomfortable, is unwelcome?" Hanin asked carefully, feeling a sharp sense of disappointment.

"No!" Maehrí cried. "No, quite the opposite! It just seemed so inappropriate to be thinking of it when we were clothed and engaged as we were. Half of those notions have never even entered my mind! With what little I know of Willow, I wasn't as shocked hearing her confessions, especially since it was clear that she didn't know we could hear them. But Arya? She was intentionally being as blatant as she could, precisely because she knew we _could_ hear. I was dumbfounded! I _never_ would have expected such behavior from one who always seemed so formal, even the former queen."

"Perhaps it's as powerful as they say," Hanin mused. "I'm relieved I misunderstood you, Maehrí. I've never felt such disappointment as I did just then."

"Hanin, if you truly can't see how desirable you are to a female, then you're a dimwit, and I won't apologize for saying it," Maehrí reprimanded.

"Good," he approved firmly. "You're correct, and it's good you finally came to recognize that truth before it was too late." He kept his stern expression just long enough for her to think he was being earnest before relenting with a grin. She giggled once more then clamped her lips together. "I wish you would let yourself laugh like that," he insisted. "It's so charming."

"Maybe I will," Maehrí tempted. "You just need to be funny again. It won't take long." She laid her face on his chest, and Hanin began stroking her long, shimmering hair.

Hanin began humming. Then he sang to Maehrí, which was another expression he had never hinted at being capable of before, though every elf could with breathtaking beauty. She froze in his arms until he finished his song.

"That was lovely," she said, attempting nonchalance.

"Thank you," Hanin accepted. "I'm sure it was nothing compared to your singing voice. Won't you demonstrate?"

He felt her smile against his chest, then she sang a heartbreaking song in the clearest soprano voice he had ever heard. He too became very still as the magic of the sound washed over him. "That was lovelier," he assured her. She shook her head slightly, trying to deny it. "What else can I do that you have never witnessed? Laugh, smile, sing?"

"You sometimes smiled," Maehrí allowed. "But never enough."

"A tragedy. How about dance?" Hanin ventured.

"No, you never let on that you could dance, though smiling, singing, and dancing are the very essence of elves in most people's minds."

"True," Hanin agreed. "Very well, Maehrí. I have no surprises. I understand if you don't want to dance with me. I'll have to be satisfied with the many sword fights we engage in."

"No, Hanin!" she exclaimed. "That's not what I meant. I would _love_ to dance with you."

"Oh? I need not be told twice." Hanin smiled, taking her hand and sweeping her into a graceful dance, which he made up on the spot. Maehrí followed perfectly, since he was an excellent leader. This activity succeeded in winning him the highly sought-after giggle, and she allowed it to flow from her mouth unrestrained. Hanin regarded his triumph with a victorious grin, and when he decided to end the dance, he spun her back to his chest, where she leaned, slightly breathless, more from her laughing than the mild exercise.

"You're as amazing at dancing as fencing," Hanin complimented.

"As are you," Maehrí returned.

Hanin was silent for a time, content to hold her and feel her silky hair. At length Maehrí said, "Hanin, are you not going to ask me?"

"Ask you?" he repeated.

"Yes. The question a male would ask when he loves a woman and knows she loves him."

"I'm sorry to be such a dimwit, Maehrí, but I really don't want to put my foot in my mouth in this situation. Are you referring to the question that involves me asking you to marry me, or whatever equivalent you might have in mind?"

"Yes, the very one!" Maehrí approved enthusiastically, teasing him somewhat.

Hanin smiled at her manner, but his stomach clenched nervously. "Are you ready for me to ask that?"

"Never more so," Maehrí reassured.

"Then what am I waiting for?" Hanin quipped, taking a deep breath and attempting to subdue the anxiety that suddenly gripped him. He dropped to one knee, took her hands, and softly asked, "Maehrí, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she declared firmly. "But we need not speak of marriage. That is not an elven custom. I will be yours, Hanin. And I would be yours right now."

In the same way that nervousness had abruptly filled his heart, shyness seemed to leave _hers._ Maehrí's eyes filled with longing as she knelt down in front of him and pressed her lips to his. She seemed to have been a most attentive listener during their recent fight or she had just had a lot of practice—which thought filled Hanin with a renewed sense of anxiety—for she instantly involved her _whole_ perfect mouth in this unexpected kiss, igniting a powerful hunger in him.

Maehrí didn't hesitate to include her hands in this surprising advance, and she was soon exploring Hanin's body with them. Hanin was so unprepared that he was swept away in her passion, any semblance of control slipping out of his tenuous grasp as he mirrored her actions.

Maehrí then pulled Hanin's shirt off and began doing the same with hers. Time seemed to slow as she revealed more of the bare skin of her beautiful torso. Hanin wanted to see her so much that he could barely breathe, certain her perfect beauty extended to every surface of her body, so why was his mind screaming at him to stop her? He didn't know why, but it was so insistent that he grabbed her hands and held them down, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe deeply as he attempted to make sense of his thoughts. He still hadn't figured them out by the time he opened his eyes and saw the look of confusion and deep hurt in hers.

Had he made a mistake? To provoke that depth of negative emotion in her couldn't be right, could it? Hanin wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his bare chest as he said, "Maehrí, forgive me. I need a moment to think this through, but _please_ don't think I stopped you because I don't want you, didn't want to see you."

"Then what is it?" Maehrí whispered, heartbroken.

"Maehrí, please," he begged. "You're the most exquisite creature I have ever seen—or felt, just then—but it somehow seemed wrong. I know marriage isn't an elven custom and that our race wouldn't look on what we were preparing to do with any disapproval, since we accepted one another and desired it, but . . . you deserve better than that. Any man could do that with you, and believe me, any man _would_ if you assaulted him as you just did, but I want you to know that I'll always stay with you, not only to enjoy your physical love. I want that too, so powerfully I almost took it from you, but I want to share it in the selfless, committed way Arya and Willow spoke of."

"I give myself to you, Hanin," Maehrí whispered in a voice so vulnerable _his_ heart broke. "You wouldn't be taking anything I don't freely give. I wouldn't give myself in this way to just anyone. I never have before. You're the only man I have loved, though many have admired me."

"Maehrí, you must know how that makes me feel! And yet I still feel to insist that you allow me to bind myself to you first, so you can always rely on the sincerity of my loyalty and love. You should never have to wonder if I'm with you only because you are beautiful and that beauty so overwhelmed me as to influence this moment. I never want you to fear that I might one day abandon you for another."

"What could be more binding than this, Hanin?" Maehrí wondered. "Some words spoken by a person with assumed authority? How could that be more binding than doing this?"

"I don't know!" Hanin said desperately, his resolve weakening under the apparent logic of her argument. "I want to share with you something that Arya told me after she and Eragon returned from their honeymoon. Do you object?" Maehrí shook her head. "Arya conceived a child with Eragon from one of their very first intimate encounters. You know how amazing that is for an elf woman, Maehrí. They had despaired they might never have children. They didn't know if a human and an elf could conceive a child at all, or if she never would simply because of the infertility of our race, and yet she immediately did. Do you know what she told me?" Maehrí shook her head again as she drew back to look at him.

Hanin continued, "She believed it was because she was so assured of Eragon's undying loyalty to her, of her knowledge that he would always be there. She _knew_ he would remain by her side to help her care for a child, should they be blessed to have one. Those feelings of trust and contentment prompted the changes in her body that allowed her to conceive a child. She then believed that the customs of our race in joining with someone whenever our capricious natures desire might be partly to blame for the infertility of our people. Have you ever noticed that most elven women don't conceive a child with their mates until they have been together for centuries?" Maehrí nodded.

"What does that tell you?" Hanin insisted. "Can't you see that no matter how she tries to reason with herself, she might always worry her mate will one day abandon her for another if he grows weary of her? It's a notion that runs as deep within our blood as our smiles, songs, and dances, for it was the experience of Linnёa, the Menoa tree, and we know how that ended, what her spurned love led her to do. Perhaps that fear has had a far-reaching, magical effect on our race and keeps our woman from conceiving but in the rarest of cases, where she feels the steadfast loyalty of her mate, the certainty he'll never abandon her.

"I don't know how a few words and an otherwise meaningless ritual necessarily change anything, but they're _something_. Something that says 'I'm committed to you' just a little bit more than simply coming together when the moment feels right. Something that proves in a small way that a couple intends to remain loyal and devoted, come what may. I want that for you, Maehrí. I want you to be sure of my love. I want to give you the chance to be a mother. Do you even want that?" She nodded, tears filling her eyes.

"The fact I didn't know that troubles me," Hanin confessed. "I want to know everything I can about you and you about me before we extend this great honor to one another. This is the most precious thing we have to share with another person. Arya said she attempted to seal her love with Eragon the night she arrived on the Isle, but he stopped her with some type of reasoning along the lines of which I am now using. He has always been an excellent example to me, and I feel he was right. I want to do what's right, Maehrí. Can you accept this?"

"But that felt so right, Hanin," Maehrí cried with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I wanted you and it felt like you wanted me. What's wrong about that?"

"Nothing," Hanin said, "when it comes at the proper time, after the demonstration of loyalty and love, which are revealed through the exercise of self-control."

"Everyone else—all other elves—do it this way," Maehrí reasoned. "Are we so much better than they to presume to live in such a contrary manner?"

"Does doing something just because everyone else does make it right, Maehrí?" Hanin gently queried. "Something might be perfectly accepted and yet still contradict the very laws of physics and nature. Think about how most humans view the whole notion of reproduction. Just because such erroneous views are so widely held as right doesn't make them so. A little study soon reveals the truth. This matter is moral in nature, but the concept still applies. Just because our race has learned so much about the true and logical way of things doesn't mean we have it all right. See how much more prolific the humans, Urgals, and dwarves are? And they all have customs of marriage, which they are expected to enter into _before_ consummating their love for one another in a physical way. Perhaps we elves are missing something, a key element that would lay the foundation for our women to be more fruitful."

Hanin searched her eyes. "I'll ask you again, Maehrí. Can you accept this? I want to join with you more than anything I have ever wanted, but I want to do so as your husband, after I've done all I can to demonstrate my respect and love for you."

"But what will the others think, Hanin?" Maehrí protested. "Won't they mock us?"

"That doesn't matter, Maehrí. To do something that is wrong because everyone else does it or for fear of being ridiculed because you'll stand out is cowardly and weak. Standing for right is always better. It strengthens one's character and helps those who might be wavering to have a leader they can follow. Perhaps our example will be an inspiration to our race, if you're able to conceive as easily as Arya. That would make two cases, which is more powerful than one."

"How long need we wait?" Maehrí asked. "Surely not as long as Arya and Eragon?"

"No," Hanin reassured. "That seems unnecessary. Arya was unsure of her feelings for so long, and they were thousands of miles apart for a decade. What do you say to waiting for at least a week? That would give us time to get to know one another better and for you to be sure you still want to go through with this, foolish dimwit that I am."

Maehrí smiled and reminded him, "We've been getting to know one another for nearly six months, Hanin."

"True," Hanin said, "But we're seeing new sides to one another. As you said before, our relationship was very formal. I was the teacher and you the student. Now we mean to become friends."

"Very well, Hanin," Maehrí relented. "I accept this condition of yours, though I already know I love this new side of you even more than the one you always showed me before. Forgive me for my forwardness when I didn't realize your feelings were what they are."

"Another thing you needn't apologize for, Maehrí," Hanin said. "Though completely unexpected—even after Arya's warning—it was the most sublime feeling I have ever experienced that you would initiate and desire that."

"But I must admit that I'm still feeling rather crushed you rejected me," Maehrí said.

"Maehrí," Hanin began, intent on denying her words, "I'm so sorry my actions hurt you and that you interpreted them as me rejecting you. I wanted you so badly that my head was swimming and I could barely think straight. I wanted to see you naked so much I couldn't breathe. My brain was screaming at me to stop you, and though I couldn't understand it at the moment, I followed the direction. It seemed important for me to be feeling it so insistently at a moment such as that. I'm sorry I fondled you so shamelessly," he finished, only sorry he had done it prematurely.

"I still don't understand, Hanin. Why must we wait? You just admitted to wanting me so badly you couldn't think straight."

"Yes," Hanin confirmed. "I do."

"And I want you so much that my heart is aching," Maehrí said.

"I can see that."

"So why?" she whispered.

"Maehrí," he said gently. "Have you ever had a man look at you with longing and recognized that he desired you in this way?" It was almost a rhetorical question. She was so beautiful, Hanin was sure it had happened.

"Since the time I was fourteen and appeared as an adult, it has been that way almost every time."

"How does that make you feel?" Hanin wondered.

"Like none of them see me for who I am. All they see is my beauty—the exterior—and want to experience it for their own selfish gratification, imagining that being with such a beautiful woman must surely be the very apex of pleasurable experience."

"I thought it might be like that," Hanin said. "I sometimes feel something similar whenever a female eyes me in open lust. I don't like it. It doesn't add to my feelings of self-worth but only diminishes them to know that I'm viewed as such a worthless object, wanted only for my superficial beauty when the person knows nothing of who I am." She nodded.

"When you look at my eyes what do you see, Maehrí?' he asked gently. "I know the longing is now there, ignited today by your obvious desire, but there's more, isn't there?"

She gazed into his eyes. "You see me for who I am, Hanin. And you've never looked at me with passionate longing until this moment. Ever since we first met, you have always been respectful and chivalrous in your behavior toward me. It was so refreshing, how I always hoped to be treated, since I so often see the other look. I'm sure it must have been the reason I fell in love with you so quickly."

"I _do_ see the worth of your character and the goodness of your heart, Maehrí," Hanin said. "I see that the surface beauty extends into the deepest part of your soul. I want you to know that I'll stay with you forever, even should your physical beauty diminish, because I understand who you are, what kind of person you are. That kind of loyalty and commitment springs from self-control and the tempering of those baser urges because each require such patience and resolve, such enduring in the face of temptation or trial. That's why we must wait, Maehrí. If I can show you through my self-restraint right now—though I want you and this so much—that I'll wait until the moment is right, I feel I'm also showing you that my loyalty will be equally as tenacious. Do you see?"

Maehrí nodded slowly, and he saw in her eyes that she finally _did_ see. "Thank you, Hanin," she whispered. "Thank you for seeing my true worth and not immediately becoming obsessed with my looks. I've often considered it both a blessing and a curse. As you said, women usually envy my looks and dislike me because they think I must be vain and self-absorbed. Men often desire me and think there isn't more to me than what their eyes behold. You're different. And I can now understand your reasoning. Self-control is a precursor to devotion and loyalty, for it shows one can wait to enjoy what they want, rather than immediately gratifying their desires. And loyalty means remaining true to what one has waited for, instead of losing interest and looking for gratification elsewhere. They're each separate but related and necessary parts of a healthy relationship. Thank you for teaching me this."

"Thank you for trusting me, Maehrí," Hanin said. "Who shall we have marry us?"

"Eragon seems the best choice to me. Do you have a preference?"

"I would have chosen him as well. I hope Arya has recovered."

Maehrí nodded. "Do you think I might really become a mother soon after we join?"

"I don't know. Do you want to be a mother right away? For our race, you're very young."

"I wouldn't mind," she assured him. "Do _you_ wish to be a father?"

"Yes, Maehrí. I'm eighty. Most human men this age are grandfathers or great grandfathers, if they had families. I know I'm young for our race and with things as they are—children being so rare and adults often living singly and in solitude—I didn't give much thought to the idea that I ever _would_ be a father. But if I _could,_ I would welcome the opportunity, especially if you were the mother of my child."

Maehrí smiled. "Perhaps we could visit my own father and mother in Sílthrim during this engagement period. I've had the opportunity to meet yours, and I would love to introduce my future husband. In fact, my father would most likely be furious if I didn't. He has always been quite protective, since he clearly noticed how most men always viewed me. He'll like you when he sees how different you are."

"That's a splendid idea, Maehrí. We can leave as soon as you want. With dragons, the trip will be short indeed." Then Hanin teasingly said, "So what else do I want to know about you? What's your favorite color?"

"Whatever color your eyes are," Maehrí answered. "Can you call it brown?"

"Brown! Come, what a boring color, especially if it's only your favorite because my eyes are. Before you knew I existed? What was it then?"

"Blue," Maehrí replied firmly. "Sky blue. I've always loved the sky. To be able to take to it on Silvan is the most beautiful gift. Well, it was until now. I would rank being with you higher than that. What's _your_ favorite color?"

"Would it be cheating to say sky blue?" Hanin asked.

"Not if it truly is, though I suspect you're only saying that because it's the color of _my_ eyes."

"You caught me," Hanin admitted with a playfully guilty expression. "Very well then. Before I met you, it was green. Forest green. _I_ have always loved the forest and being in it as much as possible. Ellesméra must be the perfect place for me with all the trees, but I did always feel a longing for adventure. That's why I often ran as far and fast as I could through the forest."

"I like this business of getting to know you," Maehrí confessed. "Did you always keep your hair so short? I love how it looks." She ran her fingers through it, gently pulling the tousled spikes between them as she withdrew her hand.

"No, not always," Hanin said. "I cropped it off after first flying with Vera. It whipped all around and was such a tangled mess. It never was a matter of pride for me. Boring black. There's not much variety when it comes to hair color for an elf, but of the two, I think silver is certainly more interesting. Yours is like liquid starlight. Promise me _you_ will never chop it off because flying makes it messy. I volunteer to always help brush it out if it becomes a problem." He put one hand to the side of her river of shimmering hair, sweeping it across her back so the waves gradually trickled off his hand. "It's magnificent."

"Thank you, Hanin. I would be lying if I pretended my hair wasn't a matter of pride for me. I'm quite fond of it and won't soon part with it, especially with an offer such as the one you just made."

"That's a relief," Hanin said with a grin. "Shall I put my shirt back on? You removed it quite expertly. And your kiss was amazing. I must admit, it worried me that you must have practiced most determinedly with someone to be as proficient as you were."

Maehrí giggled. "No, Hanin. You're actually the first man I have ever kissed or who has ever kissed me. I had virgin lips," she giggled again, and he grinned more widely. "They just wanted to know everything about yours, so I let them do what felt natural."

"There must have been some truth to what Arya said," Hanin mused dryly. "That such a kiss felt natural for one who has always been as proper and timid as you is completely unexpected."

"You're fifty years older than I," Maehrí said with sudden concern. "And the handsomest elf I have ever seen. Surely you can't say the same thing. How many women have you kissed and left heartbroken in your wake?"

"Exactly one, Maehrí," he said, gently touching her cheek. "And that I left her heartbroken in my wake is one of my greatest regrets. I only hope I can make it up to her. Do you think I have a chance?"

"With the reassurance that she was the first and only to experience the pleasure of your kiss, I think you have a very good chance indeed," Maehrí replied. Then she asked, "What's your favorite hobby or pastime?"

"Pre-Maehrí or post?" Hanin asked, reaching for his shirt and pulling it on over his head.

"Both," she said with another giggle.

"I'll go back even further. Before Vera hatched for me, my favorite pastime was running through the forest. Since I loved the green color of the foliage, I raced through the treetops where I could be closest. I sometimes felt like a bird, leaping from the branch of one tree to the next. So imagine my delight when I suddenly found myself with a winged creature all to myself who would soon be able to fly me far above the treetops, where all I would see of their beauty was a sea of dark green beneath me. Flying with Vera was my favorite pastime before I met you. Once I did meet you, my favorite way to spend my time was in any activity involving you, and fortunate for me as the guardian Rider, that occurred on a daily basis."

"Do you have any hobbies? You lived a long while before becoming a Rider."

"I like to grow things so I can see their green color and to create new plants and flowers," Hanin said. "What about you? What are your hobbies or pastimes?"

"I like to paint," Maehrí replied. "The sky is my favorite subject. Have you ever noticed how varied it can be? Perfectly clear and vibrant. Blue with traces of wispy, white clouds. Blue with great, puffy white clouds. Gray and dreary. Dark gray with ominous black clouds. Flashing and powerful with imposing lightning and thunder. The most exquisite and breathtaking assortment of colors and textures during sunset or sunrise. Midnight black, like your hair. Black lit up with countless stars. The possibilities are endless."

"I like the picture you just painted with words," Hanin told her. "Will you show me some of your work when we visit your home?"

"If you wish," Maehrí said. "I'm starting to get hungry. Maybe we can wander about until we find some berries or nuts."

"Perfect," Hanin said, grinning when his own stomach rumbled loudly as if determining it was the perfect time because of her confession. "We can head back in the direction of the city, find Eragon or one of the others, and inform them of our plans. Then we should run back to the Crags of Tel'naeír in time to watch the sunset and to pack our things so we can fly for Sílthrim. What do you think?"

"Lovely," Maehrí replied, standing in one fluid movement and grabbing her coat. Hanin stood just as gracefully, took her hand, and began walking back toward the city.

-:-:-:-


	28. Forging

28\. Forging

After Hanin and Maehrí left, Rhunön turned back to Willow and Varhog. "Shall we begin?"

"Might I first eat?" Varhog meekly ventured.

"Of course," Rhunön replied. "You'll want your strength for this next part. I have some food if you'd like, unless you brought something."

"We did," Varhog replied. "We prepared to stay with you the whole day." He retrieved the small pack they had brought and took it to Willow.

"Why don't you join me?" Rhunön invited. "I'd also like a brief repast, and you might be more comfortable on a chair than the ground."

Willow gratefully said, "That would be nice. I've had my fill of sitting on the ground for the morning." They followed Rhunön as she led them past her forge and through the door of her home, grown out of the circle of trees that created the atrium within. She efficiently prepared a humble but abundant variety of plant foods, which she set out on the small table near the kitchen. "I expect you're both used to eating a plant-based diet?"

"Aye," Varhog replied. "Willow does almost exclusively, though she consumed some animal flesh through the winter in my village. I must occasionally eat meat to sustain my body, but I do so only infrequently and attempt whenever possible not to slay the beast myself. My dragon often does, and I share from his meal."

"A fitting compromise," Rhunön approved. "I have a hard time imagining one as large as yourself gaining the sustenance he needs from an all-plant diet. Much like a grazing animal, you must have to eat nearly all day to sustain the constant demands of your body."

"Yes, that's often the case," Varhog said. "I eat voraciously. Much like the beast most men view me as."

"Their mistake," Rhunön said reprovingly. As she set the last of the food down, she sat with them on a bucket she pulled over, since there were only two chairs.

"I can sit on that," Varhog offered. "I'm taller. I'd reach better." He stood so she wouldn't be as likely to object.

Rhunön accepted his gesture. "How chivalrous," she murmured in mild surprise as they both once again sat.

"He always is," Willow bragged.

"There is much we other races don't know about the Urgralgra," Rhunön remarked. "Are all rams this way?"

"Most are," Varhog answered. "At least when at home with their families. The misconceptions arise from the reputation of the fighting rams, which a few years has hardly had time to reverse. For so long we have been known only for our feats of arms and our love of conflict as we seek to prove ourselves worthy of a mate."

"Which they do mainly to prove their ability to protect her and their family," Willow said.

"Logical," Rhunön said. They ate then, each focusing on that task for a time until all the food was gone.

As they returned to the forge, Willow curiously asked, "Rhunön-elda, do ever get an understanding along with the impressions you receive? I ask to see if you know why you felt I would need a protective coat."

"No, I don't," Rhunön answered. "I simply feel deep within my gut that I ought to do something and I do it. At least now I do. I didn't always, but centuries of experience have taught me that it's best to follow through on those impressions. You _will_ need the coat, but I don't know why or when."

"Have you determined how you will make it?" Willow wondered.

"I believe so, but until I ascertain that my plan will work, I'll keep the details from you. There's a specific piece that must fall into place, which as of yet has not. If and when it does and once I've had time to experiment, I'll enlighten you. You seem to think quite highly of experimentation."

"Certainly," Willow said with a laugh. "Of a different nature, but no less satisfying in its own way, I'm sure. I doubt I'll ever understand the deep love you feel for your work, unless it's similar to the deep love I feel for Varhog."

"It might be. Perhaps I'll be able to give you a better idea after I've been inside your mate's mind for a time. I don't see anything he does not willingly share, but from what I can sense, a love such as this will not be hard to observe."

They arrived in her forge, and Rhunön began taking a series of measurements of Varhog's arms, hands, and fingers, marking them down on a slab of stone with a piece of coal. "This will be a huge weapon," she mused. "Larger than any I have ever made, able to produce death at every stroke in your hands. You agree to my conditions?"

"Yes," Varhog solemnly replied, "and I'll perform the vows in the ancient language just as soon as you require it of me."

"Not quite yet," Rhunön said. "I'll also take measurements of Willow right now, for both her sword and her coat. You'll have to help me determine the accurate sizes for the armor. I know how pregnancy affects a woman's body, and I'm sure you have an intimate knowledge of hers."

"Indeed," Varhog said without embarrassment. "I'll help as I'm able."

Rhunön grinned slightly and began by measuring Willow's arms, hands, and fingers. Then she measured the width of Willow's forearm, bicep, and neck. She retrieved a longer piece of rope to measure around her shoulders, her arm length from her shoulder to her knuckles, and the length of her torso from her shoulders to just below her hip. Rhunön then asked Willow to raise her arms out to the side so she could measure her bust. "It's no doubt bigger than when she was not pregnant. Is that correct?" she asked Varhog.

"Aye," Varhog confirmed. "I know you don't know when Willow will need this, but it's safe to say that her breasts will be either this size or somewhat larger for the next many years, since she'll be breastfeeding or affected again by pregnancy before the nursing even ends. Such is the way of my people, and Willow seems to have embraced our ways wholeheartedly." He gave Willow an affectionate smile, which she returned.

"That's good to know," Rhunön said as she recorded her measurements. "If I can accomplish my design as I wish, the coat will have some flexibility and will stretch enough with her as to always seem a perfect fit, if it's close enough to start with. What of her waist?"

"It's this large when she's not pregnant," Varhog said, holding his hands up with his thumbs and forefingers touching one another and forming an oval.

"You have large hands," Rhunön observed.

"And she has a slender waist," Varhog countered. "She has the most perfect body of any female I have ever seen. Even now."

"It's good you think that," Rhunön approved. To Willow she said, "You have this ram completely star-crossed."

"And he has me exactly the same way," Willow assured her.

"You two are an uncommon couple, destined for great things," Rhunön complimented. "I will observe your future accomplishments most eagerly." Referring to her work of measuring, she then said, "I'll make a crude bust to use in the forging of the coat. Varhog, you can tell me if it's close enough to be acceptable. But for now let's finally begin on this sword of yours. I've done much of the preliminary work myself, preparing the fire and purifying the metal. I need to get an idea of your strength before entering your mind and taking command of your limbs. Your body is the largest I have ever worked with and has the greatest size discrepancies from my own. Take my hammer and strike the anvil as hard as you can."

"Is it made of brightsteel or some other indestructible metal?" Varhog asked in concern. "Or do you have spares? I fear I might break them."

"I have spares," Rhunön responded. "And you'll no doubt be able to fetch them for me if I need them. The metal is not indestructible. That's why I need to see if you can break it using all of your strength. I must know how to wield the hammer in your arm."

"Back up," Varhog warned, especially to Willow.

"Oh, Willow," Rhunön said. "I've prepared a place for you to sit and observe away from the heat and flying sparks. I sang the branches of those yew trees into a comfortable bench. I hope I guessed the angle that would be most pleasing for your back and hips with the extra strain they're under. Your fight earlier did not trouble you as it did Arya, did it?"

"No, honored one," Willow replied. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"Yes, thank you," Varhog agreed. "I'll work much better knowing Willow is comfortable and out of harm's way." Rhunön regarded him once more with the look of surprise and admiration at his complete devotion and consideration of Willow.

Willow went to the seat of branches and sat in it. "It's marvelous," she called to Rhunön. "Like sitting on a soft mattress." The elf smith walked over to stand by Willow then nodded at Varhog to proceed.

"Should I use both of my hands?" Varhog asked, still hesitating to fulfill her request.

"I often do when forging, so yes. I may not feel the need with your strength, but I want to get an idea for the power I'm dealing with here. May I enter your mind now as you do this?"

"Of course," Varhog replied, picking up the hammer. He took one step to bring him to the anvil then grasped the handle with his other hand, swung it over his head, and brought it down on the anvil with massive force, unleashing all of his immeasurable strength. The blow shattered both the hammer and anvil into numberless fragments, leaving Varhog with a jagged stump in his hands. Some flew up toward his body, but none penetrated his tough hide.

Rhunön jumped a little at the power of the blow. "My, my," she marveled. "What a black-smith wouldn't give for strength like that. It will shorten the time of forging considerably. Are there Urgal black-smiths?"

"Aye," Varhog replied. "Their work is easy for them, as you have guessed. But my strength is greater than most Urgal rams, thanks to my bond with such a powerful dragon. I'm even stronger than the other Urgal Dragon Rider, and he's Kull."

"How are you able to be with Willow without killing her?" Rhunön wondered. "Forgive my presumption," she added as an afterthought.

"No matter," Varhog replied. "I'm not offended. I must be very careful. The first time we shared our love physically, it was so powerful and I was so unprepared that I broke her hip simply by holding her too firmly with my hand. I felt horrible."

"I'm sorry," Rhunön said compassionately. "But if that's the only time you've hurt her, it's commendable. That hammer and anvil were much denser than her bones. That also gives me a good idea as to how strong I must make her coat. It must be very strong indeed to withstand strength such as yours. Let me assume control of your body for another moment before we get started. It will help me get accustomed to your larger size before we begin the work with the potential to harm you."

Varhog surrendered so Rhunön could do as she wished. He then moved in jerky motions as Rhunön attempted to control his great limbs in a coordinated manner. She walked him out of the forge to a storage shed grown into the trunk of one of the trees, opened the door, and took him inside. He reappeared carrying a huge anvil, larger than the one he had broken.

Rhunön said to Willow, "This anvil is nearly five hundred pounds, and yet he acts as if it weighs nothing to him." She used magic to clear away the mess of the shattered anvil and hammer, depositing the shards in a rubbish heap out the back of her forge. She had Varhog carry the new anvil to the desired location then carefully set it down so she wouldn't smash any of his fingers. She returned him to the shed and when he next emerged, he had an armful of tools.

Rhunön made him set them down on the worktable then left off controlling him. Varhog grinned. "That's unusual," he commented.

"You have a pleasant mind," Rhunön observed. "Very wise and well-educated for one so young. Thanks to the influence of the Eldunarí, I would guess." He nodded. "And as I predicted, your love for that woman is amazing, overshadowing every thought and underpinning every action. I'd imagine hers for you is something of a similar nature."

"If not more, judging by how she sometimes looks at me," Varhog said, glancing over at Willow, who was observing everything in weary contentment, lulled into drowsiness by the comfort of her seat. She smiled at him when he regarded her, her eyes confirming his statement.

"I'm impressed with you two," Rhunön admitted. "And any elf who has had the displeasure of knowing me for long knows how unlikely that is."

"Thank you, honored one," Varhog said. "The worth of your esteem is not lost on me."

Rhunön took a deep breath and brought her hands together. "Shall we begin in earnest now?"

"I'm ready," Varhog said.

"Good," she said eagerly. "Repeat after me," and she said a series of oaths in the ancient language, which is what they had been speaking all along. Varhog repeated them to promise he would never use his weapon for evil or murder, but only in self-defense, the defense of a just cause, or for training purposes.

"I'll seal the oath to the weapon at a certain point during the forging, using your own blood. And just so you know, a just cause is according to _my_ definition, one not likely to change. I'm fully aware that old fox Galbatorix was convinced of the justness of his cause. Such things are somewhat subjective, but I'll never be in the position a Rider is thrust into, where they suddenly have so much power and ability. For some—though I think the dragons try to choose those who don't have these tendencies—that power leads to greed and a desire to rule over others in their mistaken sense of superiority. I have been impressed with Eragon and his soundness of judgement. He has never sought power nor glory."

"He is an admirable mentor and example," Varhog agreed. "Worthy to be leader of the Riders."

Without further ado, Rhunön once again assumed control of Varhog's body and began her work of forging his blade. The task captivated her full attention for endless hours, and Varhog's stamina never wavered. Willow napped in her seat, awakening to once again eat, while Varhog toiled onward, never resting as Rhunön took full advantage of his unwearying strength.

Many hours after nightfall, Rhunön finally relented. Willow was once again sleeping, and Rhunön sensed Varhog's concern for her. He wanted her to rest in a comfortable bed with his presence near her.

Rhunön told Varhog, "Good work, Rider. We made amazing progress today. We should be able to get even further tomorrow without all of the preliminary necessities. Return when you are fully rested and well-fed, even if that's not until noon. I'll have plenty to do to keep myself occupied, for I can and must make Willow's coat myself."

Varhog nodded his understanding and went to Willow, gently lifting her and walking away into the night.

-:-:-:-


	29. Assistant

29\. Assistant

After Varhog left with Willow, Rhunön did not retire but made her way into the forest. She had her destination in mind, for she had visited it the previous day, so she quickly arrived and knelt by the bush she sought. Her keen elven eyes were perfectly able to see in the dark, and by the light of the moon, the shimmering web appeared as silver. Its creator was nowhere to be seen, but Rhunön knew that meant nothing. She reached out with her mind to the edges of the web, searching for the energy that would indicate life. She soon found the vibrant blaze—though it came from such a comparatively small creature—and gently touched the mind with her own.

 _Sister Spider,_ she respectfully began. _I am Rhunön, the elf smith of Ellesméra, though you have no reason to know me. I come seeking your assistance, skilled weaver. Would you hear my request?_

 _Yes,_ the spider replied, neither kindly nor indifferently. Rhunön could sense her curiosity as to why she was being thus addressed.

 _I desire to create a piece of armor the likes of which has never before been forged. It must be both incredibly strong and incredibly flexible, so it appears like a normal garment but with the capacity to withstand enormous force. I have thought most carefully on the matter and believe I will only be successful in my endeavor with the assistance of your kind, whose natural spinning and weaving ability is a gift I cannot imitate, not even with the most advanced magic. Your silk is also the substance with the greatest capacity to meet my specifications. Will you consider lending your assistance?_

 _Why should I?_ the spider demanded.

 _I have had an impression that the fate of nations—entire races—hangs in the balance. The creation of this garment will be essential in assisting one who can tip the scales toward good and peace._

 _Who will wear it?_ the spider asked.

 _A young human girl whose age next to my own makes her as but a babe, but whose wisdom is greater than the ages,_ Rhunön replied _._

 _Human? The taller of the two-legged, round-eared races?_

 _Yes._

 _Most of that species hate and fear my kind and would as soon crush us or destroy our masterpieces for sport as recognize our usefulness and expertise. No, elf, I will not help you._ The spider withdrew her mind.

It was as Rhunön feared, but she did not yet give up. Aloud, for she did not wish to cause further offense by reaching the spider's mind when she had so clearly ended the conversation, Rhunön said, "I understand, Sister Spider. I would not seek to change your mind. I only ask, will you please consent to meeting her?

 _And risk being killed?_ the spider angrily responded. _A female of that species, in particular, would be most likely to fear me._

 _She is different. She will not harm you, I am sure of it. First and foremost, she is a legendary Dragon Rider, and her bond with a queen of the sky allows her this same ability I am now using to communicate with you. She has told me how she reverences life, even the smallest insects, and how she delights in observing them fulfill the measure of their existence. She has also developed an unlikely friendship with a pack of wolves. Her mate fought and nearly killed their whole pack to protect her from them, for they meant to eat her. And what do you think she did to repay them? Do you think she let them die?_ The spider thought she had. _No. She saved them all, risking her own life in the process. They now view her with a reverent devotion and are as loyal to her as her mate. And who do you suppose her mate is?_

 _I can hardly guess,_ the spider said in irritation _._

 _An Urgal ram. Of the Urgralgra. A horned one._ The spider's surprise was obvious. Rhunön knew the spider had never seen an Urgal, but her awareness extended to all members of her species, millions of life forms across the land.

 _She is different,_ Rhunön insisted again. _And has an uncanny ability to overcome typical prejudices and biases, to unite people and species in friendship, even love._

 _Why should I help in the crafting of a piece of armor that will most likely be used for purposes of violence?_ the spider demanded.

 _No, not violence. Defense. She is going to be a mother. Of twins. Hardly significant to one such as you, who might become a mother of hundreds or thousands, but significant to my race and her own. I have felt that her life and her family's depend on this. Without it they will all be killed. Let me show you._ And Rhunön played images from Willow's fight in the spider's mind, emphasizing how she defeated Garzhvog by evading him at the last second, and how she subsequently saved him from suffocating, though she might have left him to die.

 _So why could she not evade such an attack, if directed at her again?_ the spider asked.

 _I do not know. What if she did not have the time or the situation was direr and she needed to maintain her grip? There are endless possibilities. I do not know the reason she will need this coat, I just know she will, and I am prepared to do anything to craft it. Not only will it serve this noble purpose, whatever it is, but it will be the greatest challenge of my craft that I have ever faced, and I welcome the opportunity. However, as I said, I am sure I cannot achieve it without the unique abilities of your race. I will not ask you again but to implore: Will you please meet her?_

 _Very well,_ the spider relented, intrigued once more. _But I have not eaten in many weeks, and I am weak. Will you help me obtain a meal to regain my strength?_

 _Yes,_ Rhunön agreed, casting her mind out in search of something that would satisfy the spider's request. She was grateful to find a swarm of small flies over the still surface of a nearby pond. They were of the irritating variety that seemed to serve no purpose but to annoy, and whose true purpose was to provide food for insects higher on the food chain. Rhunön sang soft words of enticing, and the swarm innocently moved in her direction. She invited them right into the spiderweb, where they became trapped, hoping the sheer numbers would make up for the tiny size.

 _Will this be sufficient?_ Rhunön asked.

 _More than,_ the spider replied with apparent gratitude as she busily began attending to her captives.

Rhunön waited patiently while the spider fed. When she was done, Rhunön asked, _May I carry you to my dwelling? This human girl will return there in the morning. I am forging a weapon for her mate. I will put you in a place where she will surely see you and leave it up to her to work her magic. I will not give her any clue of my intentions. I do not expect anything to come of this. If you still refuse your help, I will not be angry. We can discuss the matter further tomorrow evening. I know you customarily rest during the day. After a meal such as that, will the few hours of rest you get now before daybreak be adequate for your needs? It may be that she and her mate do not return until well past then, since I told them to return when they were rested. She was most weary from the demands of her pregnancy and the exertions of the day, and he had been working tirelessly in the forging of his blade._

 _It will be adequate. You may carry me._

Rhunön carefully extended her hand so as not to disturb the spider's web, and the spider reached her two sets of front legs—four total—out to catch Rhunön's palm, quickly bringing the rear four on with her. She was large enough to cover the surface of Rhunön's palm with her legs extended, but she crouched nervously in her new location, all of her instincts warning her to flee.

 _I will not harm you, Sister Spider. Your beauty is as magnificent as your skill in weaving._ The spider relaxed somewhat, and Rhunön slowly carried her back to her home, through the tunnel of dogwoods and into the atrium beyond. Rhunön let the spider crawl off her hand onto the seat of woven branches she had sung from the yew trees. _I made this seat for the girl to rest on while she watches her mate work on his sword._

 _Your regard for her is surprising._

 _You will soon understand why. Thank you for agreeing to meet her. I will leave you now to rest._ Rhunön left, and she too chose to retire, wanting to be fresh in the morning to begin her work.

-:-:-:-


	30. A New Friend

30\. A New Friend

Willow and Varhog didn't wait until noon to make their way back to Rhunön's forge, but neither did they return at dawn. Willow was still sleeping when Varhog laid her in bed, and though he was once again famished, he lay right down beside her and promptly fell asleep, exhausted by the intensive demands of that long day. She slept on when his stomach awakened him, insistently demanding that he eat, so Varhog dragged himself out of bed and ate as much food as he could find, which still didn't fill him. But it took the edge off his appetite enough for him to return to bed and sleep another few hours before Willow awakened.

Once she had, they snuggled together in the bed, and while thus engaged, the babies moved, pushing into Varhog's side where they were pressed. He chuckled. " _They_ like that, don't they?"

"Every time," Willow agreed. "What should we name our babies, Varhog?"

"Hmm. I'm sure you've already thought on this. What have you come up with?"

"If sons, I like Varhog and William, after their father and mine. What do you think?"

"There's already another baby Varhog. Do you think it will get confusing?" Varhog asked.

"No. And even if it does, I don't care. I'm set on that much at least—that one of them be named after you."

"We could try some combination of both your name and mine," Varhog suggested. "Like Varrow and Willhog."

Willow giggled. "That's a possibility, but I really want one of them named after you, Varhog. It would mean a lot to me."

"Well, thank you, Eartheyes," he said. "I'm honored. I like your idea. Varhog and William. And what if they're daughters? We could go with the same theme and name one for you and one after your mother. You told me her name once. It was Monrow, wasn't it?"

Willow smiled, affectionately stroking his jaw. "Good memory, sweetheart. That's right."

"It would have been thoughtless of me to forget. The day you told me was a hard one for you."

"Yes, but also a good one, since it was the day I first knew for sure that I loved you. You're the most thoughtful person I know, Yelloweyes. But if you had forgotten my mother's name, I wouldn't have been upset. I rarely speak of her, and the void left by her death was filled so beautifully by your mother and family. Though I'll always remember her fondly in the memories I have, I don't miss her like I once did. And since my own name is a combination of hers and my father's, I'll always keep a part of her with me."

Varhog kissed the top of her head. "So we could go with Willow and Monrow, if we have daughters. What do you think of that?"

"I have no objections. But the names are similar, and since the babies will look exactly alike, it might be confusing. What if we used your mother's name?"

"There are already so many variations of it in my family," Varhog pointed out. "That too might be confusing. I like Monrow and that we would be paying tribute to the woman who brought you into this world. That's no small thing. I'll be eternally grateful."

"As will I," Willow agreed. "The world doesn't seem as unfair and harsh anymore with you in my life and this future before us."

Varhog smiled lovingly. "Did you feel well after fighting yesterday? I worried after seeing Arya's reaction."

"Perfectly so," Willow reassured him. "It was amusing trying to fight this way. Did I look ridiculous?"

"No, Willow. You were as graceful and coordinated as ever. As was Arya. You're both so radiant in your pregnancies."

"Your opinion may change as time draws nearer for these two to be born. Arya is nearly at her time, but I have so much longer. I think the babies will be large with you as their father and with two, why I just might look ridiculous and be clumsy by the end."

"You'll always be the most beautiful woman in existence in my eyes, Willow. Even nine months pregnant with twins. Especially then, since you'll be at the door of becoming the mother of my children and making me a father. I'm excited for that time."

"So am I, Varhog. It will be so wonderful, although I worry about how what we've been doing this morning will become more difficult."

"I have faith in our abilities," Varhog said in amusement. "At the very least, we're experts at pleasuring one another. I'm at your service."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I feel the same. Now, have you had enough of me yet? We should probably be getting back to Rhunön's."

"For now I'm satisfied," Varhog answered. "Thank you for that."

"My pleasure," Willow replied. "Literally."

"Rhunön told me we needn't return until we're fully rested since she'll have plenty to do. I feel rested but I hoped we might be able to sneak over to the library for a time."

Willow grinned. "Are you sure that would be wise? You're liable to end up staying in there for the next three weeks if you're not careful."

Varhog laughed. "I could no doubt stay even longer, but I'll control myself. I'm sure we'll have other opportunities, but she assured me it would be fine if we didn't return until noon."

"Fine with me," Willow said.

-:-:-

They arose and began preparing for the day by bathing and dressing. The whole time they did, Varhog told Willow of his experience forging his sword. More food—a large amount, based off his size and her pregnancy, they guessed—was brought to them by a gracious elf maid, and when they had eaten it all, they left in search of the library.

All of the elves they passed, who were inevitably thrilled by Willow's pregnancy, pointed them in the right direction. Before reaching the library, Willow and Varhog were met by a beautiful elf woman, whom Willow identified as Hanin's mother before she even introduced herself.

Hanin's mother thanked Willow for encouraging her son to increase his affection toward her then informed them that Hanin and Maehrí had flown for Sílthrim early that morning to meet Maehrí's parents. She shared that the two elven Riders had searched for Eragon but were unable to see him or Arya in Tialdarí Hall, so they had left the message with her, along with a request that she inform the Riders when she was able.

When Willow asked why they had gone to meet Maehrí's parents, Hanin's mother told them of Hanin's and Maehrí's plans to marry. Willow was overjoyed to hear the news. Once they were again on their way to the library, Willow exclaimed, "Hanin didn't need my help after all! I'm so happy for him!"

"But you made him laugh," Varhog reminded her. "Which, it seems, was needed in order for their relationship to progress."

"Yelloweyes," Willow protested with a laugh, "you'll always exaggerate my ability to influence outcomes like this. I never set out to be a matchmaker."

"You know I never exaggerate, Willow," Varhog said. "I had never thought of you as a matchmaker before, but it does seem fitting, doesn't it? It was true for my mother and Raygog. And us, I suppose. But plenty of other times, the matches you made simply brought people or animals together in friendship."

They arrived at the library perhaps an hour before midday. Varhog hurriedly found an armful of books and received permission to borrow them, carrying them to Rhunön's atrium with the intention of taking them back to their treehouse that evening so he could begin reading them.

-:-:-

Rhunön was already in her forge. Willow admired the progress she and Varhog had made, listening most attentively as Rhunön thoroughly explained the process she had followed the previous day. When she finished, Rhunön invited Willow to once again take her special seat and picked up with Varhog where they had left off, with the promise that it would only be another day before they were finished.

Varhog and Rhunön sang together during their work most of that day, he in his deep bass and she in her grating alto. Willow thought it lovely and listened contentedly as she relaxed in her comfortable spot, which had just enough sunlight streaming onto it through the bare branches above that she was warm, though sitting still.

Early on, a small movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Willow turned to see a large spider cautiously making its way out of a fork between two branches, where it must have been hiding. Willow jumped slightly at the unexpected movement and what created it, then laughed softly at her silly reaction, observing the spider in interest.

She thought it lovely, with beautiful pale green-yellow patterning on its large abdomen, interspersed between streaks and spots of black. Its legs grouped together in pairs, forming four spokes off the body. "My, aren't you stunning," Willow commented, using the ancient language, as she had since the moment of their arrival in Ellesméra, except for when she spoke in Urgralish with Varhog.

Willow would have sworn the spider was watching her just as intently as she was observing it, but she could hardly guess the reason for such a reaction. She continued to watch as the spider crawled up one of the branches forming the fork she had been hiding in and began the mesmerizing work of spinning an exquisite web.

Willow all but forgot the two in the forge as the stunning effort completely captivated her attention. She leaned over closer so she could more intimately examine the spider's labor. She had always thought spiders worked at night and rested during the day, so she was surprised to witness this in the middle of the day, especially because she was so near. Willow had never had this unique opportunity to see such a miraculous display of precision and expertise, and the spider made it look effortless, with the natural gifts of her silk, spinnerets, and eight graceful legs. She used them all in perfect coordination, carefully placing the strands that flowed from her body precisely where they needed to be until the beginnings of a circular, spiraling web unfolded before Willow's eyes.

Willow reached out with her mind to discern the energy of the arachnid, marveling at the perfection before her. "This is incredible," she breathed to herself. "What a gift to witness a miracle such as this. Thank you, small one. I will always treasure this. But I wonder why you're out today. Shouldn't you be resting?"

Willow was of course speaking rhetorically and only to herself, so her surprise was immense when a small but intelligent mind replied, _I rested before you came. I am here to get to know_ you _better, human._

Willow was dumbfounded. _You can understand me?_

 _Of course._ The mind was amused.

 _How splendid!_ Willow exclaimed. _In that case, I'll address you directly. Thank you for sharing your amazing ability with me, Sister Spider. I have never witnessed anything as perfectly expert and effortless as you make it seem._ _I'm still so amazed, not that you can understand me but that you'll reply to me._

 _All living creatures, even plants, can understand the ancient language to an extent, as your study of the elves has surely taught you. Some can respond in it, some cannot. Some can but chose not to. Have your wolf friends never replied to you like this?_

 _No, but I'm sure they always understand me,_ Willow said _. One even once used images to communicate his meaning. Wait! How do you know of the wolves?_

 _The elf smith told me,_ the spider replied _. She came to my web last night and enlisted my help in a special project she has in mind, one that involves making a coat for you. I refused to help, but she begged me to at least meet you. I admit, I was curious, so I consented to coming. And here I am._

 _What an honor!_ Willow exclaimed. _I must be the only human who has ever had this unique privilege of meeting a Master Weaver on such an intimate level. You are the queen of the insect world, though I know you're not technically an insect but an arachnid. Forgive me if I caused offense._

 _No. It is a common mistake._

 _Would you please tell me what your life is like?_ Willow entreated. _I'm so fascinated to learn._

So the spider shared thoughts and images of what her life was like as she continued weaving. Willow listened carefully, admiring the continuous and tireless grace of her performer. When the spider once paused, Willow observed, _You have toiled so long already and your web is so large, and yet you have much more to go. Do you never run out of silk?_

 _No, I always have enough to make my web as large as I wish. And if by some misfortune my masterpiece is damaged and I must begin anew, I am able to eat the old threads and recycle them into new silk._

 _What patience that must require!_ Willow cried. _I can't imagine how disappointed I would be if I labored so diligently on such a stunning piece of work, one which was central to my very existence, only to have it carelessly brushed aside by a human hand or accidentally damaged by a passing animal._

 _It happens often, and we simply accept it and get back to work. That is our whole purpose, to spin and catch and feed and grow until we are large enough to mate, whereupon we do and lay our eggs and tend the sac until the spiderlings hatch. With rare exceptions, our lives then end._

 _The circle of life in its wholeness,_ Willow wondered. _And how essential it is. Without the unique contribution of your species, the land would soon be overrun by insects. When I was a girl, I once discovered a spider in my room and rather than crush it, as so many might have been inclined to do, I let her stay in her corner and keep the pesky insects to a minimum. It made for much more pleasant sleep at night. Growing up by the sea, the summer nights were already hot and muggy, and to have mosquitoes or flies buzzing about, always wanting to sting and bite, made it nigh unbearable. After Weaverly took up residence, that all but ceased, and I was so grateful._

 _Weaverly?_

 _Oh, that's just a silly thing I like to do,_ Willow laughed. _I named the spider. I liked to pretend we were great friends. I was an only child until I was five, and then my mother died having a baby brother, but he also died only five years later. For five years, I was once again an only child and it was just my father and I until my dragon hatched for me. I was eleven when Weaverly came to my room. It sometimes felt like she was the only friend I had. Perhaps she even understood me more than I then thought possible, though I did not speak the ancient language. I was so sad when she died. But she lived almost two years and became quite big and fat._ Willow laughed again. _I even caught some insects and fed them to her. Never useful ones, just the irritating type that seem to have no other purpose but as a food source for larger insects or small mammals._

 _It is wise of you to have observed that, human. To feed those higher on the food chain is the full measure of some insect's existence. Which makes me grateful for them, though I perceive that they are irritating to you. It is always unfortunate when a more useful insect such as a honey bee gets trapped in my web. Their good is far-reaching and benefits all living creatures, but I never let the misfortune go to waste, of course._

 _Yes,_ Willow agreed. Then, with a resurgence of the profound wonder of the whole experience she was having, she declared, _This is so splendid! Thank you for sharing of yourself. I'll always be better for it._

 _It has also been a unique pleasure for me,_ the spider replied. _You contradict all of the ideals I held about humans. Are there many like you?_

 _Not many, I fear. I'm something of an oddity._ Willow laughed modestly.

 _You are extraordinary,_ the spider corrected.

 _Why, thank you! Feelings mutual, to be sure._ The spider had finished her enormous web with an intricate zig-zag pattern in the middle, and she rested there. _Are you now hungry?_ Willow asked. _I could try to lure something over for you to eat. That must surely have taken a lot out of you, though you worked so tirelessly and gracefully the whole time._

 _The elf smith fed me in a similar manner just before she brought me here,_ the spider answered. _But I would not turn down a meal. It is sometimes many weeks in between, and eating again now might give me the extra strength I need to assist her. I have changed my mind and now feel inclined to help her after meeting you. Perhaps it is some higher calling for me beyond the regular eat, grow, mate, and die. If my abilities might help one such as you in the future, then I will share them. You have clearly demonstrated the wide-reaching effects of such selflessness._

 _Truly?_ Willow said, humbled. _In that case, thank you. I had no idea Rhunön—that's the elf smith's name—facilitated this, and I don't know what the coat is needed for, but I'll trust her and accept her gift if she goes to the trouble of creating it._

 _Rhunön,_ the spider repeated. _And what is your name, human?_

 _Willow,_ she replied. _Do spiders have names?_

 _No, Willow. We live alone and come together with others of our species only to mate. We die not long after our spiderlings hatch, and they too must make their way on their own. Many females even eat the male they mate with to sustain their energy through the long demands of growing and laying the eggs and tending the egg sac until they hatch. Many spiders are also cannibals and eat other spiders they do not mate with if one is foolish enough to get trapped in their web. We do not live in affection for one another as your species does. But I do not regret it. Most creatures such as I live by our instincts alone and rarely have cause to consider emotions. Those who live in closer proximity to the elves are more accustomed to the idea. Perhaps this is the reason your wolves do not communicate with you using verbal language. They have never before interacted in such an unfamiliar way with one not of their own species._

 _That makes sense,_ Willow agreed. _Perhaps I'll ask them if they're amenable to learning such a means of communication. But even if they aren't, we seem able to understand one another well enough. That's interesting what you said about eating your mates. If I were to try that, I'd have meals for the next year. He's huge! Can you see him over there?_

 _Not well, Willow. My eyesight is not as strong as other kinds of spiders. Perhaps if you bring him here when he is done, I will see what you mean. Rhunön informed me he is of the Urgralgra. My awareness of the world is based on the consciousness of all members of my species, which, as I am sure you can imagine, encompasses the whole land. I am aware of the Urgralgra, though I have never met one. It is an unusual thing, is it not, for a human to join with one?_

 _Yes, very!_ Willow confirmed. _But I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to have him. He's wonderful! There has never been a more loving, loyal friend or mate. I'm glad it isn't customary for us to eat our mates, though I can understand what you mean about needing the energy. Growing his two babies in my womb is a monumental effort. I'm constantly hungry with only two. I can't imagine laying hundreds of eggs._ Willow had turned her attention momentarily back to Varhog and Rhunön in the forge. It was well into the afternoon, her observation of and conversation with the spider having spanned a couple of hours. The two in the forge stopped right then, apparently ready for a break.

They both approached Willow, who stiffly stood. Though her seat was so comfortable, she still felt achy since she had remained unmoving for so long, thanks to her complete fascination with the spider. Varhog wiped his brow with the back of his arm and came to her side.

Willow took his hand, excitedly declaring, "Varhog! You won't believe what just happened!"

"I'm sure I will, Willow, knowing you. Almost everything you experience is unbelievable."

Willow laughed. "Well, this is too. I just made a new friend. This spider right here. She spun this magnificent web right before my eyes and told me all about her ways. She can communicate with her mind just like our dragons. It was incredible!"

"As you say, Willow," Varhog agreed. "That's incredible."

"The spider told me that females of her species often eat their mates after mating to sustain their energy," Willow continued. "I joked that if I tried that, I'd have meals for a year. But she couldn't see you very well way over there, so I told her I would introduce you when you came over. Do you object?"

Varhog chuckled at her words and said, "It would be an honor, Eartheyes."

Willow perched in her seat once more, using her mind to touch the spider's, as well as Varhog and Rhunön's. _My mate has taken a break from his work and would love to meet you, Sister Spider. Here he is._ She pulled him down. _This is Varhog. Varhog, this is my new friend. She doesn't have a name, but she is wonderful._

It was hard to tell which direction the spider's many eyes were focused, but she nonetheless replied, _I am glad to meet you, Varhog. Your mate is special, as I am sure you know. It has been a unique privilege to spend time with her today._

 _I'm glad you agree,_ Varhog responded _. I certainly think she's amazing._

The spider then said to Rhunön, _Elf smith, I will help you. Will my efforts alone be enough, or would it help to have more of my sisters join us? We have never before worked in cooperation in such a manner, but I believe I could convince some to lend their abilities._

Rhunön said, _Thank you for relenting, Sister Spider. I am indeed grateful. I believe several more spiders working together would be best. This project will take some weeks, if my estimations are accurate, but I have never undertaken such an effort, so I cannot be sure. Will the work exhaust you?_

 _Perhaps. I might meet my end before mating, but I am willing to do it. I will go in search of my kin and return to you when I have found some._

 _Wait,_ Willow cried. _I never found you something to eat!_

 _I am not yet hungry, Willow. Perhaps you can have something waiting in my web. If I have some enticement, I might lure my sisters here with me. They too will most likely be reluctant to lend their assistance, since they do not know you as I do. I will share with them what has transpired today and hope it will be enough._

 _Thank you again, my friend,_ Willow said. _I'll never forget your kindness._

The spider sped away on her eight long legs.

"Wow!" Willow exclaimed. "I never thought I'd have that kind of experience. Will you now tell us your plans for this coat, Rhunön-elda?"

"Yes, Willow. I'm impressed you won her so quickly but not surprised, I suppose, just as Varhog wasn't."

"I don't even try," Willow protested. "I just did what felt normal to me."

"Which makes you even more remarkable, Eartheyes," Varhog said. "Normal to most people would have been scream and run. Or worse, smash the amazing creature."

"That's true, I suppose," Willow allowed. She looked at Rhunön hopefully.

Rhunön gave her a gruff grin and said, "My plan. This is what I mean to attempt, Willow. I mean to have the spiders spin their silk. As they do, I will use purified, liquid brightsteel—heated to that state by your dragon's flames—to magically coat the strands of spider silk with the same width of brightsteel while they are being spun so that there will be two infinitesimally thin strands entwined around one another. The bright-steel will lend its strength to the spider silk so it will not easily break, and the silk will give the garment its flexibility. That I will be using such thin strands of the steel will make it possible. I'll infuse both with the essence of your dragon's scales, since I can't use the actual dragon scale in the crafting of the garment. It's too hard and completely impervious to heat, so I don't think I could liquefy it, not even with your dragon's own flames or magic. But I nonetheless want to imbue the garment with the properties, which will lend it strength and heat-resistance. And since it seemed important to you and this will be a garment for wearing, it will even have something of Sunset's color in the finished product."

Willow smiled delightedly as Rhunön continued, "Using the strands of steel-silk, I will create some type of mail. This will need to be assembled in such a way as to allow for complete freedom of motion and breathability under normal movement, but when subjected to a concentrated blow, it must contract together to form an indestructible surface that will protect your body underneath. I'm still working that out in my mind. It would be ideal if I could somehow get the spiders' help in the actual weaving of it. If it could be a seamless garment, that would add to its function and value. The strands of steel-silk might be light enough for them to manipulate, but I could be wrong. I'll need to do some experimenting before I get started in earnest, especially to ensure the safety of the spiders around the heat we'll be using. Perhaps I could protect them with some wards, just to be sure."

Willow and Varhog had listened in amazement to her description. "This will be a priceless garment, Rhunön-elda," Willow breathed. "Thank you for going to all this effort. If I can help at all, please let me know, even if it's just in casting the wards to protect the spiders. I'm sure all the other magic you'll be using is far too advanced for me to assist with anyway."

"I too would help, honored one," Varhog offered. "As Willow's mate, it is my specific duty to protect her and since this coat will be protective in nature, I want to help you. If all I can do is offer my vitality to sustain your energy as you work, I'll gladly do it, as well as anything else where my strength might be useful. Our dragons feel the same." Willow nodded to convey Sunset's agreement.

Rhunön said, "I'm sure I will need your help in that way, Varhog. I feel confident that I am the only one who should attempt the actual crafting of the coat, but my strength and energy will not last forever with the amount of magic this is going to require. One of the most important specifications of this armor is that the finished product will not be magical in nature at all. It will gain all of its considerable ability simply from the naturally occurring properties of all of the materials from which it is made, as well as from how it is assembled with my expertise. That way no one will be able to detect any traces of magic on Willow when she's wearing it. I think Sunset's assistance in the forging process will also prove useful. I anticipate that her dragon's love for her will lend power to the garment and that their bond will enhance the strength of its protective abilities. The project may take some weeks. After I have started, I'll have a better idea, but if you must leave before it's finished, do you think your dragon can remain behind until it is completed?"

"I would imagine," Willow replied. "Varhog and I have flown together on Black Thunder during nearly all of our travels, and Angela has flown with Sunset. But maybe Saphira would carry Angela and Solembum. I would miss Sunset, but I know there's not a safer place in the world for a dragon than Ellesméra. I would expect that she and Black Thunder will soon return from hunting and whatever else it is they're doing."

"Are your dragons also mates?" Rhunön asked, guessing as much from Willow's tone.

"Aye," Varhog said, chuckling. "They're much the same as Willow and myself in some ways—their size and combat styles. Sunset is an evasive flier. Black Thunder can never catch her when she doesn't want to be caught, but he's much stronger and faster. They chose to mate directly after learning these things."

"Interesting," Rhunön mused. "Fírnen and Saphira are also mates. I suppose Vera and Silvan might end up that way too, at least once he has grown a little."

"True!" Willow exclaimed. "Isn't it wonderful about Hanin and Maehrí? His mother found us on our way to the library and informed us of the news."

"Library?" Rhunön wondered. "I guess that explains all those books and scrolls."

"Varhog can fluently speak and read five languages," Willow bragged.

"But not when I first stayed in Ellesméra, which was one of my greatest regrets after I left," Varhog explained modestly. "I always hoped I would have an opportunity to return so I could make the most of the library."

"Impressive, Varhog," Rhunön approved. "And it's splendid about Hanin and Maehrí. All the Riders are falling in love and getting married. The Riders of old didn't have the same dynamic as you do now."

"Murtagh once wondered about that back on the Isle," Willow remarked. "It was right after Eragon and Arya got married. Now he, Varhog, and I have all gotten married. Next will be Hanin. That leaves Knilf, Grintuk, and Bodin, of those old enough. I hope something works out for Knilf and Greta. It's so sad to think about Murtagh and Knilf losing the ones they love once they have grown old and passed on."

Rhunön nodded pensively then changed the subject. "Well, Urgal. We have forged your blade to one of the final stages. I can finish the last details on my own. You may go for the night and it will be ready in the morning. I'll have the bust for Willow's coat made, and you can help me determine if it's an accurate representation of her pre-pregnancy body. We can begin forging her sword tomorrow, unless you would prefer to have a day just for reading?"

"Unless it's a matter of urgency, I would enjoy that," Varhog admitted.

"It will give me time to begin experimenting on the steel-silk threads. When you decide to return, we can begin on Willow's sword. Once it's done, I'll start on her coat. I'll keep you two most busy during your stay. Willow, if you don't mind, I would like to use Varhog to forge your weapon. I'm now mentally accustomed to using his limbs, and I fear that your strength—though great for a human and as a Rider—would still not match my own as an elf. I also worry for the safety of the babies around the intense heat. Varhog has agreed. Do you object?"

"Not at all, honored one!" Willow said. "Thank you for your consideration. I do not resent your continued desire to use Varhog's body through his mind. That might be the closest you ever come to enjoying some of its many uses, something I have the pleasure of experiencing more fully on a daily basis."

Rhunön barked a coarse laugh. "I'm reluctant to admit it, but there is that too." Willow laughed as Varhog chuckled, and she reached out to give Rhunön a quick embrace.

"Thank you, Rhunön-elda," Willow said sincerely. "For everything."

As Willow and Varhog turned to leave, Rhunön said, "If you happen to see Eragon and Arya tonight, will you bring me word of her condition? I haven't heard anything of her episode yesterday or if she recovered. I'm isolated here by my own preference, but I worry for her. She will always be the princess to me and one who sought more than others to befriend me."

"Absolutely," Willow promised, and then they left.

-:-:-:-


	31. Unexpected Change

31\. Unexpected Change

That day Hanin and Maehrí flew for Sílthrim, deciding to ride together on Vera to be closer to one another. They could have communicated with their minds flying on their own dragons, but they had done plenty of that and both liked the idea of a more intimate arrangement. Willow had told Hanin about sitting behind Varhog and how it helped her stay warmer and kept her hair out of his face, so Hanin and Maehrí were flying in this exact manner. It hadn't taken long for Maehrí to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head against his back. They had determined to still use their minds to communicate, since her words were all but lost to the wind in her position, though the wind brought his to her ears as soon as it tore them from his lips.

 _I like hearing your heart like this, Hanin,_ she said. _It's so strong and reassuring, like you are._

 _Thank you, Maehrí. I like feeling your arms around me. They're warm and gentle, like the rest of you._ He was slightly teasing. _Are you comfortable back there?_

 _Perfectly._

 _I love the tone of your mind, Maehrí,_ Hanin confessed. _It's so bright and clear and pure. Like your eyes, actually._

 _I've often heard the eyes referred to as 'the windows to the soul,'_ Maehrí mused. _I wonder if they might not also be reflections of the mind. Your mind is also like your eyes_ — _deep, wise, kind. Thank you for allowing me to share it. It seems very intimate to me._

 _Yes, it does, doesn't it?_ Hanin agreed. _It's most welcome, believe me._ Then they were silent for some time.

The day was perfect and clear, the sky a vibrant deep-blue. Maehrí enjoyed the beauty of their surroundings and Silvan's carefree antics as he swirled through the air. She closed her eyes contentedly as she listened to Hanin's steady heartbeat, feeling surer of his love than ever before after his display of self-control and words of devotion the previous day. It seemed her satisfaction could not get more complete.

Maehrí opened her eyes in surprise at a sudden twinge within her body. It was brief and didn't repeat right away. She tried to hold onto the sensation so she could pinpoint its origin but was unable to. Her focus on Hanin's heart reminded her of the peace and happiness she had been feeling, and the pang occurred again. Maehrí was prepared for it the second time and immediately located it within her womb. Her slanted eyebrows raised in disbelief. What did this mean? She hardly knew, but she felt a stirring of excitement at what she thought of as a likely explanation and decided to file it away for future contemplation.

-:-:-

They arrived in Sílthrim the next evening and were met with delighted cries from all who witnessed the magnificent sight of the two splendid dragons descending into their midst. Maehrí had intentionally directed the dragons to land near her parent's home, so she wasn't surprised to see their beautiful faces in the crowd of joyful elves.

Maehrí waved delightedly at them. She hadn't been back home to see them since she had left with the assembly of young elves to travel to Ellesméra, where they met Hanin to be presented to the dragon egg. Her time had been so full raising Silvan and being introduced to the ways of the Riders, but she had always felt an ache in her heart from missing her mother and father.

Maehrí had scryed them immediately after Silvan had hatched to share the news and had communicated with them a number of times in that manner. She had also informed them of their intended visit today, but she had kept the true reason for it a secret, wanting to surprise them with news of her engagement.

The crowd backed up into a wide circle to give the dragons a place to land. As soon as they were on the ground, the elves converged on them with effulgent cries of praise and wonder. Hanin dismounted, offering his hand to Maehrí to help her down. They descended Vera's leg, lighting nimbly upon the ground, where Maehrí fell into the open arms of her mother.

"Mother!" she cried, tears filling her eyes in her happiness. "I've missed you so much!" Her father then pulled her into an embrace.

"Maehrí," he breathed, pressing his face into her hair. "We have missed you too, daughter. Thank you for coming to see us before departing for the Isle." He held her tightly for a moment, and Maehrí did the same, breathing in his familiar smell.

"So this is Silvan?" her mother said as the silver dragon put his snout right over the elves. "He has gotten so large! And his coloring is exquisite, Maehrí! Just like yours. That can't be by accident, can it? But why were you not flying with him, my daughter?"

"I will tell you, mother," Maehrí promised. "But let's go home first, please. I'm weary and want to sit somewhere other than a saddle."

"Of course, Maehrí," her father said, taking her by the hand. "First introduce us to this young man. He must be the guardian Rider."

"Yes, that's right. Mother, father, this is Hanin, and his dragon is Vera. He has been overseeing my training these six months. Hanin, this is my father, Nefan and my mother, Silvi."

Hanin initiated the formal greeting of the elves by placing his fingers over his lips and speaking the first phrase. Maehrí's father said his part, and Hanin finished it with the third. He then bowed slightly and said, "It is an honor to meet you, Nefan-elda. And you of course, Silvi Svit-kona," he said to Maehrí's mother.

Silvi inclined her head in return and said, "But please call me Silvi."

"And you may call me Nefan," Maehrí's father added.

"As you wish," Hanin replied with a smile.

As they started walking, Maehrí hand in hand with her parents and Hanin trailing along behind, Maehrí explained, "Part of the reason we flew together was so Silvan could gain strength flying a long distance without me. It will help him when we decide to travel to the Isle."

Her father caught her statement. "That's only _part_ of the reason?" Nefan repeated.

"Yes," Maehrí said with a breathless laugh. "The other is that Hanin and I mean to marry and it was an opportunity to learn more of one another before we do." She looked over her shoulder at Hanin, giving him a radiant smile, which he calmly returned.

Her father creased his brow. "You mean to marry?" he asked in confusion. "I do not understand. Marriage is not an elven custom."

"I know, father, but Hanin has been influenced enough by his time with humans and dwarves on the Isle that it has become important to him, and I trust him enough to agree with his desires. He wants to demonstrate however he can that he will remain loyal and committed to me for the rest of our very long lives. I can't argue with that."

Nefan looked back at Hanin. "Is that necessary, Hanin?"

"Most would not think so—at least members of our race—but it's necessary to me," Hanin respectfully answered. "I haven't asked her to wait long, sir."

"I admire that, Hanin," Nefan approved. "It shows discipline and maturity. Thank you for honoring my daughter. As her father, I have often noticed how men regard her, and it fills me with anger when they fail to see what a gem she is, as fixated as they are on her outward beauty. I do not sense that from you, and it is the greatest respect you could show me."

They then reached her parent's home and entered. Before they could sit, Maehrí's face took on a look of concern, and she quickly said, "Excuse me a moment. I need to use the washroom."

-:-:-

She strode down a hallway and out of sight. "That last stretch _was_ quite long," Hanin joked easily, not at all uncomfortable being left alone with his two future in-laws. "I might have to visit it myself when she's done." Her parents laughed, and Maehrí's mother invited him to sit on a chair, while they did the same on a sofa.

Hanin could see exactly where Maehrí had inherited her beauty. Nefan had black hair, but his eyes were the same startling blue as Maehrí's, and the combination was truly striking. Silvi's hair was the same shimmering silver, but _her_ eyes were light brown, which was equally stunning. Hanin said, "I can see where Maehrí received her beauty. You each gave her such exquisite gifts." Maehrí's mother beamed, and her father smiled.

Just then Maehrí's voice floated down the hall. "Mother, will you please come here a moment?"

All sets of slanted eyebrows in the room slanted even more at the strange request. Her mother looked slightly worried as she stood, quietly saying, "Excuse me, please," and gliding out of the room.

-:-:-

Maehrí left the room because of the unexpected sensation she felt just as they reached her home. A warm, slippery feeling appeared on her legs at the opening of her body. She was surprised, for she had never before felt anything of that nature and decided she must see what was happening to determine whether she might be ill.

Upon arriving in the washroom and examining that area, her fingers came away with a long strand of slightly milky-looking, very stretchy fluid. Her initial surprise had increased exponentially. As an elf, she knew exactly what this was an indication of, but it so rarely happened that the only knowledge she had of it was learned. She supposed sitting so long then walking the short distance to her home had caused the sudden appearance of the fluid, but that it was there in the first place was the greatest shock. Could her body truly be fertile? This type of fluid was produced by the cervix as the time for ovulation drew near, and in a healthy, young female—which she most certainly was—it was produced for several days before the time of ovulation. Her pulse quickened in excitement as she called for her mother.

Her mother arrived within seconds and closed the door behind herself. "Are you well, Maehrí?" she worried as she observed her daughter.

"Mother, look at this," Maehrí insisted, holding up her fingers with the fluid still stretching between two of them. "This came from my body."

Her mother took hold of her hand, moving it closer to her face. "Is this not that man's fluid? Surely you have joined with him?"

"No, mother! I am a virgin and yet, here is this fluid. I believe it means that I am fertile. Can it be possible?"

"It must be, Maehrí," her mother said. "Your father and I join often, but I think I remember fluid of this nature appearing before the time I conceived you, and I seem to also remember that the fluid was different than what I was accustomed to observing after our intimate exchanges. To think! I might be a grandmother! And so young!" Maehrí laughed in delight. Her mother was several centuries old.

Then her mother added, "Daughter, you must join at once with this man you have chosen to take advantage of this. You might conceive a child right away. Such a thing has not been heard of among our people for millennia."

Maehrí said, "Actually it has, mother. The former queen, Arya, is within two months of giving birth to a child. She conceived with her new husband on their honeymoon."

"Truly?" her mother said in awe. "How marvelous! That must have been part of the reason she left, if not the main one, though the one she gave was her intense longing to be with the Riders. Apparently there was a specific Rider she most desperately longed for. She and Eragon were often thrown together during the war, from what I remember hearing."

"Yes, he is the one. They are now married. And Hanin shared with me that she believed her good fortune at conceiving was at least in part due to her assurance of his love and loyalty, which gave her a deep sense of satisfaction and peace and led to the needful changes in her body."

"So will you tell Hanin of this and insist you join immediately?" her mother pressed again.

Maehrí shook her head firmly. "No, mother. I won't until we are married. Hanin wouldn't have it any other way. I tried to the other day when he asked me to be his, but he stopped me, providing me with the most beautiful explanation of love, loyalty, and self-control."

"But what if you miss this window, Maehrí?" her mother cried in dismay. "Who knows that you would ever experience it again? Surely he would understand the urgency and feel the same way!"

"Mother, do not despair. I believe I would experience it again. Besides, as a young and healthy female, it is normal to experience many days of fertility. Hanin and I mean to marry within the week. I think I will still be fertile, and our chances of conceiving a son would increase the nearer I am to ovulation."

Her mother could not understand, just as Maehrí at first hadn't. "But surely he would agree," Silvi insisted again.

"He would, mother, but that wouldn't change his mind except to move the day of our wedding. He won't join with me until he is my husband and I am his wife. This would merely be further proof of his argument anyway, which is that elven women might be more fertile if they could be convinced of the undying loyalty of their mates." Maehrí briefly related why Hanin wanted to wait, her eyes filling with tears as she finished, "He's so amazing, mother. I'm so honored he wants me."

"Of course he wants you, beautiful child," her mother soothed. "I am gratified to hear that he appreciates the person you are. His motives are just. I will not press you again, and I hope, as you seem certain will be the case, that you will remain fertile until the time of your marriage. You say he might consider moving it sooner? Will you tell him of this miracle?"

"Not yet. If I did, and he did want to marry right away, we would have to leave directly to return to Ellesméra, and our visit will be so brief as it is. I will share it with him when I am his wife, if things are still as they now are. It will only be a handful of days more." Her mother nodded, giving her a tight embrace.

Maehrí then said, "Now I really do need to use the washroom for its intended purpose, and I'm sure Hanin does too. We pushed through that last stretch so we would arrive by this evening. I'll return in a moment. Please don't let on."

"I won't, Maehrí." Her mother smiled and left the room. Maehrí quickly performed the indicated task and washed her hands before rejoining her parents and Hanin in the sitting room.

Hanin and her father rose as she entered, true gentlemen through and through. Hanin was the first to ask, "Are you well, Maehrí?"

"More than well," she insisted with a breathtaking smile, walking straight to his side and taking his hand. "I'll tell you about it when we're married."

Hanin raised his eyebrows, confusion and curiosity plainly evident in his features, but merely said, "Very well. I will be patient."

Maehrí then said, "Sorry to make you wait so long. I'm sure you've been anxious for the same opportunity. If you need now to take advantage of it, the washroom is down the hall, first door on the right."

"Thank you," Hanin said, leaving in the direction from which she had emerged.

Maehrí sat in a loveseat, folding one leg under her.

Her parents made the most of Hanin's brief absence. "He is a very honorable man, Maehrí," her father approved. "I did not think I would ever feel that someone was worthy of you—protective, doting father that I am—but he just might meet the standards of my high expectations. You have chosen well, my daughter." Her mother nodded.

"Thank you, father," Maehrí said. "He is the model of courtesy, wisdom, and maturity, just as a Rider should be. And I have been coming to know his good-natured side as well, which he always guarded most carefully until just a few days ago, when four of the other Riders arrived in Ellesméra. Being with those he has lived with for the past six years brought that side of him to the surface. I was shocked to hear him laugh. Almost as shocked as when I met two of the Riders, a human girl and an Urgal ram who are married. She's expecting twins with him. Can you believe it?"

Her parents' faces revealed their open shock, and Hanin returned at the same moment, taking a seat by Maehrí's side.

"You haven't just told them I eat bunnies for breakfast, have you, Maehrí?" Hanin quipped, noticing their stunned expressions. Maehrí giggled delightedly, and her parents laughed, more loudly than they might have thought proper but unable to refrain for his joke.

"No, Hanin," Maehrí replied. "I told them about Willow and Varhog."

"Oh, that explains it," Hanin said, chuckling. "That's equally as shocking to most elves as what I suggested. They're an amazing couple," he seriously added. "I hope you have the honor of meeting them. Their perfect love and devotion are most exemplary. Willow is honestly one of the most unique people I have ever met. I was the next Rider to arrive on the Isle after her, and I heard stories of what it was like before she went. I had the opportunity to observe their relationship almost as long as anyone. Varhog loved her early on, and she remained innocently oblivious until only a few weeks before we flew back to Alagaёsia six months ago. During that flight is when he finally found the courage to confess his feelings. She accepted him immediately, as she had done from the beginning, never judging him for being an Urgal. He is one of the most scholarly men I have ever known—wise, insightful, thoughtful. He speaks the five major languages of the land and does moderately well with many other dialects."

Nefan's and Silvi's faces attained impressive levels of disbelief with each new insight, though they were attempting to mitigate their emotions since it was impolite to be so incredulous. Hanin laughed. "Yes, I am speaking of an Urgal ram. And he's seven feet tall, hugely muscular, and has impressive horns, but he's the gentlest creature to Willow. He adores her and she him. It's truly lovely."

"That's incredible," Silvi said. "I too hope we get to meet them. When do you intend to return to Ellesméra? Maehrí said you plan to marry there. Is there any way we could accompany you, so we may be present?"

"I have no problem with that," Hanin said. "Vera is strong enough to carry all of us, but I could ride Silvan, so you all could be together."

"How would we get there fastest?" Silvi pressed urgently, which confused the two males.

"Most likely if Maehrí or you flew with Silvan, since you two are the lightest. Maehrí would be the best choice as Silvan's Rider. She is much more accustomed to flying and that would be safer for you. I wouldn't object to being sandwiched between my future father and mother-in-law. You would have the perfect opportunity to drill me with questions and make sure I'm a worthy match for your daughter. Parents seem to know these things best. My own adore Maehrí. They have been urging me toward this step for some months now, though it seems so hasty for an elf after our relatively brief acquaintance. But they see how special she is. Maehrí, would you object to that? Flying alone on Silvan? Your mother seems most anxious for us to be married." He gave Silvi a warm smile before turning toward Maehrí.

"No, Hanin. I would love it. You know how much I love flying with Silvan! If he ever gets too tired to keep up with Vera, we can use the Eldunarí for energy."

"A perfect plan," Hanin said. "We originally intended to stay a couple of days, Silvi," he said to Maehrí's mother. "But those plans can be altered, if needed. The flight back would give us two days to get to know one another, if you truly do accompany us."

"We most certainly will," Silvi confirmed. "Let's allow you and the dragons to rest tomorrow then leave the day after."

"That sounds perfectly agreeable to me. Maehrí?"

"Yes, of course," Maehrí said.

Their talk turned to casual conversation as they moved to the dining area, where her parents had an abundant welcoming feast laid out, and they ate and visited until late into the night.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** Near the end of the following chapter, there is brief mention of a Mature love scene.


	32. Back in Ellesméra

32\. Back in Ellesméra

The morning after a leisurely day of reading and wandering through Ellesméra, Willow and Varhog returned to Rhunön's atrium, excited to see Varhog's blade, which was indescribably magnificent. Embedded within the hilt was a large hexagonal onyx, and the sword was huge and deadly in every way, right down to the obsidian color. Varhog reverently accepted the weapon, which was a perfect fit for his hand, unlike any other blade he had held after becoming a Rider.

Varhog moved several steps away from the women and carefully swept it around, assuming several flawless poses. Willow shuddered. He was so deadly even without a blade. With this weapon, Willow guessed that Varhog most likely _would_ be able to stand against a hundred Urgralgra rams and triumph in the end, though she could not foresee a situation where that would ever happen. But she was nonetheless glad to see his pleased expression.

Varhog returned and sheathed the stunning blade, humbly saying, "Thank you, honored one. I have never seen its equal."

"Nor I," Rhunön admitted. "It truly required your strength to become as it is. I alone could not have done it. It is infused with your might even when you do not wield it, though one would have to be at least as large and strong as you to comfortably carry it. What will you name it?"

"I will think on it," Varhog promised. "It deserves a worthy name. I am prepared to begin on Willow's blade whenever you're ready."

"Aye, we'll begin straightway, but I have a word of advice for you. Take some time every day to transfer energy into this onyx in the hilt," Rhunön said, tapping the black gem with one finger. "It has almost immeasurable storage capacity, and having the store may prove useful at some point. A good time might be as you drift off to sleep, since you're already allowing weariness to overcome you. Then the increased drain will only lead you to a deeper, more restful slumber."

Varhog nodded his understanding, carefully resting his sword in a crook of Willow's tree seat so it would remain upright. Then he removed his shirt so he and Rhunön could begin their work on Willow's sword.

-:-:-

Around midmorning, Eragon and Arya arrived. Rhunön rose from where she was sitting next to Willow, going at once to Arya.

"Princess, are you well?" Rhunön asked in concern. "I have worried about you. It was thoughtless of me to ask you to fight like that in this stage of pregnancy."

"Thank you for your concern, Rhunön-elda," Arya said. "I am well." She looked as radiantly healthy as ever, but her face was slightly drawn, as if she carried a great weight on her chest.

"Then why do you look so worried?" Rhunön demanded.

The pained expression on Arya's face deepened. "I have learned by observing within my womb that the umbilical cord attaching the baby to my body is wrapped around the baby's neck. It's not extremely unusual, as you know, but in this case, I couldn't encourage the baby to move and don't know how to do anything about unwinding it. It won't respond to my singing, so I think it might be too taut. I believe that was the reason the baby's heart rate plummeted so alarmingly during those surges of my womb. Somehow that tightened the cord in its location. I fear what this means for the birth, when the contractions will be so much stronger and longer. And when the baby must descend, I don't know what will happen." Though Arya tried to contain them, tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

Eragon had his arm around her, his face grave. "All will be well, my love," he soothed. "We haven't come this far to lose the baby so near its birth. Have faith." Willow's eyes watered, and she guessed they had been through this a number of times. Arya nodded bravely as if his words were deeply meaningful to her.

Rhunön appeared deeply affected by Arya's sorrow. Her furrowed old face softened and she placed a tough, wrinkled hand over Arya's smooth one where it rested on her distended abdomen, giving her a gentle squeeze. "You are strong, princess, and so is your husband. You have been through so much together. That baby will also be strong and will fight for the chance to live this life. You will be a family." Arya nodded numbly, overwhelmed by Rhunön's reassurances.

Rhunön then invited, "Sit here with Willow. I made it big enough for two, and Willow assures me it's very comfortable for a pregnant woman's back and hips. Have her tell you about the spider. She'll be able to cheer you up as no other, though I know your mind will never be far from your baby."

"Thank you, Rhunön-elda," Arya whispered fervently. "What you said means so much to me. I will not despair." She leaned forward and embraced Rhunön, which caused the old elf to stiffen in surprise. But Rhunön nonetheless returned the gesture by awkwardly patting Arya's back.

As Arya drew back and sat next to Willow, Eragon said, "Arya, now that you have company, may I go off for a time? I won't be gone long."

"Of course, Eragon," she replied. "I love you, darling." He nodded and turned to stride toward the trees, breaking into a desperate run as he reached them.

Arya watched him go, keeping her eyes on the trees where he had disappeared before turning to face forward. She stared at her hands over her belly. "That he did not say anything in reply reveals how deeply this is affecting him," Arya murmured to Willow. Varhog had returned to the forge, and Rhunön took a seat on the ground at the entrance.

Willow saw that Arya's tears had started once again. "I'm so sorry, sister," Willow mourned. "How can I help? Is there anything?"

"Pray for me, Willow. For the baby. I know your faith in higher powers is greater than my own. I don't know what else to do. I've tried all I know to do."

"I will, Arya," Willow vowed. "I promise. Rahna would understand."

Attempting to be brave once more, Arya lifted her eyes to Willow's. After taking a deep breath, she said, "Now tell me about this spider. I really am curious."

-:-:-

Eragon ran until he could run no longer, then he fell to his knees and sobbed. Before long, his hands hit the earth and he collapsed to his chest. With his face straight in the dirt he continued on, unable to stem the flow of his grief.

Saphira soon found him. _Eragon,_ she said compassionately so he would know she was there and that he wasn't alone in his anguish. She knew she wouldn't be able to reach him right then, so she lay on her belly, resting her snout next to his side.

As the sobs wracked Eragon's body, he dug his hands into the soft ground, attempting to keep himself from tearing apart. He hadn't felt this kind of agony since right before Arya arrived on the Isle. He had been in the same position then as these past couple of days, having to be stoic and reassuring since Arya was so desperate about the baby. But he could bear it no longer, and he _now_ allowed himself to _feel._

Eragon's own concern over his child's danger was intense, and he felt even more helpless than Arya. He didn't see how they would be expected to face this trial after everything else they had gone through. If the child died during the birth. . . . The thought was more than he could handle, but he made himself think it because he had to be prepared for Arya's sake. Eragon knew she would be inconsolable if the baby died and that he would need to be strong for her. So he wept now for the heartache of the last few days and for the devastating possibility in their future.

When the pain threatened to consume him, Eragon cried out and pulled himself over to Saphira, wrapping his arms around her snout and shuddering at the violence of the emotion.

 _Little one_ , she mourned, not knowing how to comfort him but desperately wishing she could do anything to lessen his suffering.

 _Saphira! What am I to do? What if the baby dies! Arya would never recover. She would be heartbroken for the rest of eternity and there would be nothing I could do to bring happiness back to her heart, even if I could give her another child. She would always mourn the loss of this first one. This our most blessed and unexpected gift, ripped from her arms even as she was first able to receive it! It's too much. Too much! Ah!_ He cried out again, hunching over as he felt a ripping sensation in his gut like someone was impaling him. He felt Saphira's hot tears running onto his arms and knew from her mind that she didn't know how to help him.

"No," Eragon moaned. There was nothing he could do, so in the desperation of his lowest moment he prayed, "Holy Mother Rahna, I have never reverenced you before, but if your legend is true, you understand the sorrow we might face. Help me. Please help me!" He choked on a sob as a beautiful feeling of warmth and peace suddenly filled the emotional wound splitting him apart. His tears came to a shuddering halt, and he heard a female voice—so warm, compassionate, and loving that it took his breath away.

In his mind—so softly he wondered after if he might have imagined them—these words came to him, _Eragon. All will be well. You have not come this far to lose your baby so near its birth. Have faith and all will be well._

They were the words he had used with Arya, and now someone was repeating them back to him. Eragon gazed at Saphira in wonder, amazed that what had just happened had completely erased his anguish and fear. _Did I imagine that?_

 _I heard it too, little one. And_ felt _it. The warmth and peace. My sorrow for your suffering has been replaced with a calm reassurance. For reasons I do not understand, I feel we need no longer worry._

 _Yes, exactly,_ Eragon agreed, feeling a strong desire to give thanks for the beautiful release from the prison of his agony. More certain than ever before that it would be heard, he earnestly whispered, "Thank you, Rahna. Thank you for this peaceful reassurance. I will have faith."

Eragon stood, brushing himself off and attempting to clean his face. _How do I look?_

 _As handsome as ever, little one, though your face is smudged all over with dirt. Shall I lick it clean?_

Eragon chuckled, surprised he could accomplish it and have it feel natural after the way he had been feeling only moments before. _No, thank you. I think the shredded flesh might leave Arya slightly more concerned than the dirt. I'll find a stream and attempt a better wash-up._

He did just that, and, after getting her approval that he no longer looked like his face had been shoved in the dirt, Eragon climbed up to Saphira's shoulders. She didn't have a saddle, but she only walked with him, and he lay carefully against her neck, wrapping his arms around her. _Thank you for being there for me, Saphira,_ he said. _I felt so alone, so desperately helpless. You know how I felt. But I wasn't alone, thanks to you._

 _Little one. I love you. I will always be there for you._

 _I know, my friend. I love you too. How is your egg?_

 _Growing, even as Arya's belly, though I doubt it shows the same way with my huge mass._

 _I haven't noticed a difference. I'm embarrassed to even ask, but where does it grow? There must be some type of opening in your body for it to emerge from when you lay it, but I've never even thought about that before now._

Saphira rumbled her amusement. _Yes, Eragon. There is an opening, as with any female. It is under my tail, between my hind legs. That—as I am sure you can imagine, practiced lover that you now are—is also how Fírnen joined his body with mine in the mating process, making the growth of the egg even possible in the first place._

She wasn't uncomfortable discussing the topic, so Eragon wasn't either. _What do you do with your tail?_ he wondered. _Doesn't it get in the way?_

Her rumble was louder. _It makes things interesting. You know mating between dragons is not gentle._

 _Aye, from the little I've observed of premating exchanges, as well as what I can gather from your thoughts, I can easily imagine that._ They were nearing Rhunön's atrium. _How large do you suppose your egg will be? We learned that the size depends on how large the dragon is when she conceives and the egg develops. Are you larger than your mother was when your egg grew?_

 _Of that I am not certain, Eragon. I suppose we will learn soon enough._

 _When will you lay it? You made it sound like you have some choice in the matter, once it's fully developed._

 _Yes. The hatchling inside can remain indefinitely within the egg without coming to harm, and the egg can remain a long while inside my body without any adverse effect. I am not sure if I want to wait until we are on the Isle. I know you would help me transport the egg wherever we went. I feel inclined to offer it as an egg for the Riders, though my secret wish is that it might hatch for your child. That means it would remain dormant for some years, many fewer than I did, but I think it might still be hard for me to be patient. But I do not want to carry it too much longer than necessary because I could conceive another soon after. The demands of growing an egg are comparatively so much less on a dragon's huge body than the same effort is on a human's or an elf's. And once it is laid, it no longer requires its mother's body for nourishment, as is the case with a mammal, so I can lay eggs nearly back to back._

 _That's exciting, Saphira. I like thinking about my two favorite females becoming mothers together._ Eragon laughed, and Saphira rumbled again.

She made her way carefully through the tunnel of dogwoods that were daily growing new leaves. The buds were slowly opening under the warm influence of spring, and Saphira didn't want to damage them as she passed, so she crouched down and all but crawled. Eragon could have reached up an arm and, without fully extending it, run it along the branches overhead. _Would it help if I got off,_ he wondered.

 _No, it is actually helping me remember to be more careful,_ Saphira replied.

They were soon in the clearing, where Saphira had slightly more room to maneuver. _You're much bigger than the last time we were in Ellesméra, aren't you?_

 _Slightly,_ Saphira teasingly agreed.

Eragon heard Arya's tinkling laugh before he saw her. _That's music to my ears,_ he told Saphira, hopping down and giving her one last caress on her snout before rapidly making his way to his wife. He knelt down in front of her before she could stand, resting his head in her lap and reaching out his arms to encircle her womb.

"I'm sorry I didn't reply to you earlier," Eragon immediately said. "I love you so much, Arya. My heart still aches every time I look at you. My eyes still drink in your beauty as if I've been wandering in the desert for a week and you're the first water I've come across. You're everything to me, my wife. That I can call you that still fills me with the deepest humility and gratitude I have ever felt. And this baby?"

Eragon lifted his head, kissing her belly. "This baby is everything to me too. And I know all will be well. Just now, when I ran away, I was feeling so lost and overcome that I prayed. I prayed to Rahna, She of the Gilded Horns, who is reverenced by the Urgralgra, and she answered me, my love. My pain was immediately replaced by a reassuring warmth and peace. I heard her voice in my mind, and she repeated the words I said to you when we first arrived here, as if reminding me I knew the way out of my desolation. It's the same as before, the same as always. We must have faith, for that truly is the way."

Eragon finally looked up at Arya. Tears were falling from her eyes, and he noticed from his peripheral vision that Willow was crying too. Arya ran her fingers through his hair, unable at first to reply with words. She then moved them to his face, repeating the movements through his beard. But the emotions only grew more powerful, and she began trembling.

Seeing that she would not regain her composure, Arya gasped, "Thank you, Eragon. You're my beacon—shining and steadfast, guiding me through the darkness towards safety." She turned to Willow. "Thank you, sister. Your company has been so cheering. I feel immeasurably better. And I look forward to seeing how this coat turns out. I'm sure I'll be here often to witness such a display from a group of spiders, an elf, a human, and an Urgal." She smiled, leaning over to give Willow a hug.

Eragon stood, sensing that Arya was ready to leave and guessing he knew why. They had been too worried the past couple of days to engage in intimate expressions of love. He helped her to her feet as she turned back to him.

"Carry me?" Arya requested, and he picked her up. "Goodbye, Willow," Arya called. "We'll see you when next we see you." Willow smiled and waved as Eragon walked away.

-:-:-

Eragon swiftly returned to their rooms in Tialdarí Hall, and Arya dutifully kept her hands on her belly so as not to offend the many elves they passed with the activity she engaged in as soon as the door was shut behind him. _Then_ she reached them around his neck, running them through his hair as she began kissing him with fervent yearning. He returned it just as urgently, carrying her to their bed.

Several moments later, as their shared release began, Arya's soft sounds of pleasure gradually transformed, becoming more fearful as her perception of the baby changed drastically in response to the powerful contraction of her womb, made so much stronger by his fondling at her breasts. She cried out in terror, clapping her hand over her mouth so elves outside wouldn't hear, as she lost all perception of the baby's heart rate for a moment. But there was nothing they could do to stop the release right in the middle of it and when it finally stopped, Arya clutched her belly, singing softly and channeling energy toward the small life until she once again heard the reassuring patter of its tiny heart.

It was the last time they made love before their baby was born.

"Arya!" Eragon gasped in a strained voice. "I'm so sorry! I should have had better control."

"No, Eragon," Arya denied. "It wasn't your fault. I wanted that as much as you, and I should have known better than to think that provoking such a powerful contraction of my womb would somehow be beneficial. To my womb, perhaps, but to the baby in its current situation? No, I should have known better. I think it best, for our baby's sake, if we don't do that again until after it is born. I'm sorry, Eragon. I don't want it to be that way—"

"It must," Eragon said firmly before she could torture him any longer with her apologies. "For our baby's life, we can do anything."

Arya nodded resolutely. "I think I know what I must do. I need to sing the baby from my womb before the surges start in earnest. I need to invite my womb to open gently, so the duration and power of true labor surges won't kill the baby. When the time comes for the baby to descend, we must simply hope it can happen quickly enough that the baby will not suffer negatively. I think we should fly to the meadow when I'm thirty-six weeks along, so we'll arrive when I'm thirty-seven weeks along. It's not ideal to force the baby from my womb prematurely, but at that stage of development, the baby is thought to be as likely to survive as at full term. It's a risk I'm willing to take when the alternative—waiting until the time comes on its own—might mean the baby will die. Is this acceptable?"

"Anything, Arya," Eragon repeated. "But we needn't even fly to the meadow. That might create enough discomfort to cause your labor to begin, and then we would be in the very position we're trying to avoid. I'm sure Angela would understand."

"I can make it to the meadow without going into labor at thirty-seven weeks, Eragon," Arya reassured. "I'm very strong, as if in my prime, though my age suggests otherwise compared to a human. If I did nothing to encourage the baby's early birth, I'm certain I would carry this pregnancy at least until forty weeks. I am not in danger, but the baby."

"Very well. So we leave in about three weeks? That now seems so impossibly close."

"Yes, it does. We must scry Murtagh and inform Willow, Hanin, and Angela to see who still wants to come."

"Let's begin making our preparations at once," Eragon said, wishing to be doing something useful.

He helped Arya move off of him and covered her with a blanket as she curled up on the bed. Then he pulled on his pants and went to the mirror in the washroom so he could scry Murtagh. The first person he spoke to in the palace in Ilirea was a servant of the queen, but the man formally bowed to Eragon at his request of fetching the prince and swiftly left to fulfill it.

Murtagh appeared almost before Eragon thought possible, given the size of the palace. He was somewhat breathless, as if he had been running. "Eragon! Greetings, brother. Wait, what's wrong? You look dreadful."

Eragon smiled tiredly. "I'm glad to see you too, Murtagh. I'll get right to the point. The baby, our baby, is in danger. The cord is around its neck and every time Arya's womb tightens, it cuts off the baby's blood supply and its heart rate plummets. Arya feels she must encourage her labor to begin before she reaches full term so the true labor surges will not kill the baby. We plan to have the baby in the meadow where Angela was born, which is in eastern Du Weldenvarden. We need to leave from Ellesméra in three weeks in order to arrive there in time, and we thought we should tell you so you have enough time to plan accordingly, in case you still want to be present. If circumstances prevent you from coming, we understand. We don't expect it, especially since the long travel will most likely be difficult for Nasuada. How is she?"

"Glorious, Eragon. Pregnancy becomes her. Her health is radiant, and so is the baby's. I must admit, my curiosity got the better of me and I discovered that my child will be a daughter." He grinned broadly. "But I haven't told Nasuada. She wants to be surprised. I think Nasuada would want to come, and Elva certainly does. Nasuada's far enough behind Arya that I don't think the travel will be terribly uncomfortable, and we're in a better position to leave now, politically, at least."

"Why is that? Has the Urgal unrest resolved itself?"

"Somewhat. We've learned from a reliable though unlikely source that the Urgal king seemed most threatened by the near proximity of our dragons when we were all in Carvahall. He is quite certain of his strength but he wasn't fond of having so many dragons so close. Now that we have all traveled away, it seems he's once again content to stew within the confines of his kingdom, at least for now."

Eragon asked, "Did you hear about the attack and ten casualties early in the winter?"

Murtagh's expression clouded. "Yes. Nar Garzhvog sent word to Nasuada through one of his spellcasters. Did you have any more trouble?"

"Arya and I spent most of the rest of the winter in Varhog's village," Eragon replied. "But on the day we stopped in Carvahall before coming here, Kulkarvek himself attacked and nearly killed Saphira."

Murtagh exclaimed in shock, "No! How? Did you see him?"

Eragon briefly summarized the events of that night and finished by saying, "Varhog and I have discussed it at length, but we still have no idea how to defeat him, and we worry there might not be a way. He can't be killed by dragons, magic, or weapons. He's impossibly huge—ten feet tall, probably a thousand pounds. I'm glad to hear he has gone back to his reclusive habits of old. Roran has reassured me that there have been no other assaults since we left. If the presence of dragons in Alagaёsia has such an effect on the most dangerous threat to Nasuada's kingdom, we must be very careful how we tread. I admit, I can't foresee how to resolve this peaceably, especially if the king can't die. Who was your source?"

"A werecat," Murtagh answered. "There is often one on the place of honor in Nasuada's throne room, and the most recent visitor deigned to share that with us when Nasuada was at her wits' end about the situation. We've had very little reliable information to go on. How she knew, I know not, but Elva assured us we could trust her."

"I know how she knew," Eragon said, explaining the werecats' unique ability as Angela had shared it. "I should have thought to ask Solembum, but they come and go as they please, and he might not have condescended to enlighten me anyway."

Eragon then changed the subject. "On a somewhat happier note, Hanin and the newest Rider, Maehrí, have fallen in love and plan to marry. His mother told me that they want me to perform the ceremony when they return from a brief visit to see her parents in Sílthrim. They mean to arrive back by the end of the week. I doubt that gives you enough time to make the long journey. It takes about a week from Ilirea to reach Ellesméra, if not a little longer. At least with a pregnant wife. I could ask them to wait if you think you'd like to try to make it?"

"No, brother. No one in love should wait to marry. I know that better than anyone. Let them go forward with their plans and give them my congratulations, with the assurance that I'll repeat them when I see them myself. That _is_ happy news. All of the Riders are getting married and having babies. How is my dear sister and her great brute of a ram?"

Eragon grinned. Why hadn't he scryed Murtagh sooner? His brother always lifted his spirits with his easy wit. "Willow is doing well. She's as large as Arya, though some months yet from her time. Varhog just finished forging his blade. It's terrifying, brother—nearly five feet long. He was deadly enough without a weapon like that. Good thing Rhunön has her new conditions. With his strength and stamina, Varhog could bring down an entire army by himself with that blade, even without the use of magic or a dragon. Let's hope it never comes to that. He is now helping Rhunön forge Willow's blade."

"Interesting. Well, I'm being summoned yet again. I'm not sure how I feel about being the prince, but I wouldn't have it any other way if it comes along with being married to a queen. Thank you for contacting me. We'll make plans to come directly and hopefully see you in less than a fortnight, in time for us all to leave together for Angela's meadow."

"Thank you, Murtagh," Eragon said. "Talking with you has helped me cheer up somewhat. I look forward to seeing you again. Goodbye."

Eragon went back to the bedroom and, seeing that Arya had fallen asleep, grabbed his shirt, pulled it on, and gave her a gentle kiss on her head. "I love you, Arya," he whispered. She murmured but remained asleep, so he quietly left, intent on fulfilling his other tasks.

On his way back to Rhunön's, he happened upon Maud the werecat in her human form. He stopped. "Maud. How are you?" She looked at him and said nothing. "I understand if you feel disinclined to help, Maud, but if there's any way to contact Solembum and let him know that my wife's condition has taken a precarious turn and we must fly for Ellei-an's meadow sooner than we originally planned, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm not sure how else to get the message to Angela, and I have no idea where she is."

The werecat replied, "He now knows, Dragon Rider. I wish you and your mate well."

Eragon placed a hand on her arm. "Thank you, Maud," he said before continuing on his way.

At Rhunön's he was surprised to find dozens of spiders perched along the low wall surrounding her open forge. Willow and Varhog were in the forge, and it was clear that Rhunön was not using her mind to control Varhog's body. He had his eyes closed and was running his hands along a crude female bust. It was a strange sight, but it made more sense when Varhog said, "This is an accurate representation of what Willow's body was like before her womb began to grow. It should serve as a reliable guide for her coat."

Rhunön nodded curtly. "Good. I'll start as soon as we finish her sword, though I might continue experimenting tonight when the spiders are at their sharpest. I'm pleased so many have arrived to help. You made quite an impression, Willow."

Eragon hadn't heard the method behind Rhunön's design, as he was sure Arya had when he had run off that morning, but rather than ask Rhunön for an explanation, he decided to ask Arya. It would be something she could discuss that would keep her mind off the baby and both their minds off of what they had mutually agreed must be forbidden for a time.

Rhunön glanced over at Eragon. "You look grave, Shadeslayer. What is it?"

Feeling no awkwardness, Eragon explained in a lifeless tone, "When we made love just now, Arya had a contraction so long and powerful that the baby's heart completely stopped beating for several seconds. She has decided she must sing the baby from her womb before her labor naturally begins to avoid the contractions that might kill the baby. We fly in three weeks for Ellei-an's meadow."

He continued by addressing Willow and Varhog. "Do you two still wish to accompany us? We no longer believe the birth will be followed by some dreadful spiritual experience, as we once did, but it could nonetheless be fraught with danger for the baby. As such, we most likely will not need strength in numbers to assist us, but we would welcome your presence if you still desire to be there."

Willow looked anxiously at Varhog. "I still want to come. If there _is_ a way we can help, we would only be able to offer it if present. Varhog?"

Varhog nodded his agreement, and Willow smiled. "Yes, Eragon," she confirmed. "We still wish to come."

"Ellei-an's meadow?" Rhunön asked.

"Angela's mother," Eragon replied. "The meadow where her parents met and she was born."

"Why will you be going there?" Rhunön queried.

Eragon briefly related Angela's story, pensively falling silent as he finished.

"That is most interesting," Rhunön remarked. "An elf and a dwarf. A very unlikely thing. I'm only aware of one other instance of such a match, which makes it less unlikely than you two." She jabbed a finger toward Varhog and Willow. "Still, it doesn't answer my question as to why _you_ will be going there, Shadeslayer."

"Angela is desperate to learn anything she can of her parents, of why she was destined to remain behind and alone as an immortal. She hopes if the birth of a baby created from an interracial union occurs in the same location as her own, we might have some experience that will shed light on her mystery. She predicted my fortune and part of it was that I would have an epic romance with one of noble birth, which as it turned out was Arya herself. And from then on, Angela was often near wherever I was, mysteriously knowing what was going on and appearing in the strangest ways to help me. She once saved our lives during the course of the war, and we're happy to do this for her to show our gratitude. That's why."

"I see," Rhunön said, also pensive now. "Well, I won't presume to try to talk you out of it, Shadeslayer. I warned you about making love, now didn't I? But I can see that you are sorrowful enough as it is and I won't chastise you again. Take care of the princess, do you hear me?"

"Aye, honored one," Eragon said quietly. "Arya is the only reason I have for living anymore."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Rhunön said in annoyance. "You have plenty of reasons for living. And you lived ten years without Arya. But the blink of an eye, you will come to see, as the years of your life stretch on and on. Yes, she might be your highest priority, but don't do anything foolish if something ever happens to her or your child. This world still needs you, Shadeslayer. All of you Riders have much good yet to do." She clapped her hands together firmly. "We stopped just before you arrived, intending to refresh ourselves with food and drink. Would you care to join us?"

"Thank you, but I'll decline," Eragon replied, turning to leave. "I wish to return to Arya. Good evening."

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** There was once a chapter following this one, the main purpose of which was to detail Hanin and Maehrí's wedding and first time making love. I wrote all of that extra fluff because I could and I like it, but I realize—thanks to excellent reader feedback—that such scenes, in addition to being quite repetitive, are very periphery to the main plot and do next to nothing to move the story along. I have removed the entire chapter and posted it over on livejournal (that link again is: autumn6435 . livejournal . com), where you can find it as: _Part 3, Tumbling_. It no longer contains MA explicit detail, but I'll keep that tag so people don't have as many words to scroll past. In an upcoming chapter, there is a brief discussion that reveals what Maehrí does to make the experience unique, so if you don't want to read the whole scene, you'll at least get insight into that aspect of it. Cheers! ~A


	33. Spinning Steel-silk

33\. Spinning Steel-silk

While Hanin and Maehrí were away, Willow and Varhog showed up every day to assist Rhunön and the spiders with Willow's armor. Her sword was finished the morning after the two elven Riders were married, and Willow's praise was glowing. The color was as stunning as she always imagined, and Rhunön had chosen to embed a brilliant, deep pink, heart-shaped diamond in the hilt.

Rhunön said, "I've never chosen that shape or gem, Willow. I wanted it to be something completely unique, just as you are. The heart represents your ability to love everyone and everything. The diamond is one of the rarest stones there is, this color in particular, and it was the closest match to Sunset's dazzling scales."

"How did you obtain it?" Willow wondered.

"I have my ways," Rhunön said mysteriously. "It has even greater capacity for energy storage than Varhog's stone. You will never be able to fill it, but transfer as much energy as you can into it. You help her, Sunset."

 _I will,_ the dragon vowed as she admired the blade with Willow. _My color truly is mesmerizing, isn't it, sunshine?_ she added in awe, as modest about her unique features as Willow was.

Willow laughed. _Yes, Sunset, it is. I finally have my matching sword! And I never even thought about this, but now I'll have a lovely shirt your color too. Who would have ever thought I would one day be completely adorned in pink? I never thought of myself as a feminine girl, but I suppose I've become one, if color is any indication._

The other two were privy to the exchange, and Rhunön said, "I like how she calls you 'sunshine.' It's fitting. You're warm and bright and bring life."

"That's what Varhog first thought too!" Willow exclaimed.

"And see how right he was?" Rhunön stated. "See what kind of life you have given him?"

"I see it the other way," Willow objected. "My life is so much happier with Varhog. I'm sure no one has ever been as blessed." She smiled at Varhog, who was watching her in his quiet way, as if he would never fully understand just how amazing she was.

-:-:-

Then they got to work on the armor. Rhunön had done some preliminary tests and come up with a satisfactory method. Willow carefully cast the wards on the spiders who were taking the first shift, and Varhog stayed by her side in the yew branch hammock, prepared to aid Rhunön with energy if she became tired.

Rhunön, of course, did most of the work. Sunset blew a small but steady stream of her brilliant, pink-orange flames at the pool of liquid brightsteel, which was contained within a thick stone basin, shimmering under the constant force and heat. Rhunön used the essence of Sunset's scales by pulling it straight from her body rather than a loose scale, hoping it would further strengthen the properties.

A swirling mist of pink was all they could observe of the essence of the dragon scales. Rhunön sang to make the monotony less tedious as she repeatedly combined the essence of dragon scales with a sliver's-width stream of the brightsteel, directing the liquid metal toward the opening between the low wall and the roof of the forge. Here the spiders descended from the eaves while trailing a strand of silk. Once they reached the low wall, they scurried over to the pillar and crawled back up to do it again.

Rhunön entwined the liquid brightsteel around a strand of silk, magically joining the end of one to the beginning of the next, thereby creating a seamless length. All the while she continued with the steady effort of joining the silk with the essence of dragon scale-infused metal, leaving the finished strands to hang where they were attached so the steel could cool.

With all of the spells Rhunön was concurrently using, the work was grueling, and she was quickly relying on Varhog to sustain her, who was in turn soon borrowing from Black Thunder. After several hours, Rhunön and the spiders had spun enough steel-silk to fill one open wall of her forge with a curtain of shimmering strands. They were beautiful, rippling in the breeze and radiating a soft pink-orange hue, which combined with the silvery brightsteel and the transparent spider silk in an unprecedented manner.

Rhunön finally stopped singing and leaned against her table in exhaustion. After several moments of deep breathing, during which Varhog continued to share vitality so she would recover more quickly, she straightened and invited them over to examine her work. They went to the farthest end of the shimmering curtain, where the molten brightsteel had cooled, and Rhunön reached up a hand, reverently running it through the strands, a tender expression on her face.

"Exquisite," Rhunön breathed. "Feel it." They each did and saw what she meant. The texture was as smooth as silk, but not sticky like spider silk because of the presence of the brightsteel.

"It's so fine," Willow commented. "Will it really be strong enough?"

"Let's test it," Rhunön suggested, separating a single strand from the mass and wrapping it around both hands. She pulled with all her might and succeeded only in cutting fine lines around the whole perimeter of her hands where the strand was wrapped. She healed the wounds with magic, her eyes burning with a zealous fervor. "Willow, fetch me your sword," she demanded eagerly. Willow turned to obey, but Varhog was already moving. He returned and offered Rhunön the sword.

"No, Varhog. You do it," Rhunön instructed. "Slash at the curtain."

Varhog hesitated, protesting, "You just worked so tirelessly for hours. What if it damages them?"

"Spider silk, magically entwined with brightsteel, both of which have been infused with the essence of dragon scales? Varhog, this material should be indestructible. I'm almost certain it is, but I want to be sure. Do it." She grabbed Willow by the arm and pulled her over to the yew branch seat while casting a ward to protect herself, Willow, and Varhog from flying projectiles.

Varhog swung the blade—which looked like a toy sword in his huge hands—with all of his strength toward the curtain of fine strands. There was an ear-splitting screech as one indestructible material collided with the other, and the sword glanced off the curtain and flew from Varhog's hand across the forge, exiting with great velocity through the open wall opposite the curtain. It flew dozens of feet, embedding itself hilt deep into one of the ancient trees forming Rhunön's atrium.

They all flinched, and Rhunön cried out in dismay, springing up and dashing to the sword. She pulled on it with all her might but couldn't remove it, so she shouted for Varhog to come help. He sprinted over and was able to withdraw the sword after bracing his feet carefully against the trunk.

Rhunön was beside herself. She wrapped her arms around the tree where the sword had pierced it and began singing. The wound oozed sap, but it slowly closed up in response to Rhunön's words of healing. She slumped toward the ground when she was done, but Varhog caught her and supported her over to the branch seat. She crumpled into it, breathing weakly. She had already been so exhausted from her intensive effort with the steel-silk, and the emotional shock of having one of her trees stabbed along with the effort required to heal it, had drained her last energy.

Willow fetched her a drink of water and when she had recovered enough, Rhunön rasped, "Those trees have lived for millennia, longer than myself. They are my family—my parents and children. It was for me what it would have been for you if that blade had impaled Willow through her heart, Varhog. It wasn't your fault. I'm not blaming you, just explaining the reason for my shock and pain. We have ascertained the strength of the steel-silk, and it is even better than I hoped. We'll have to ensure that it provides the same protection against a blow of brunt force and that it will protect Willow underneath but after that just now, I think the prospect is good. Good, indeed. I am going to retire for the evening to regain my strength. I may even rest all of tomorrow, but if I decide to work, I'll send someone to fetch you. If you don't hear from me, return the day after."

They nodded, and as they turned to go, Varhog offered an apology.

-:-:-

As long as they were able, the two returned to help Rhunön. She progressed to the stage of weaving the garment, which she accomplished with the spiders' assistance after mentally explaining her design. She had first spun an extensive amount of the steel-silk, attempting to produce all she would need for the entire garment so Sunset could fly with the group leaving for Ellei-an's meadow.

The time for that departure quickly neared. Murtagh, Nasuada, and Elva arrived with over a week to rest and see the city between long flights. Hanin and Maehrí returned from their honeymoon around the same time. Arya and Eragon had the least to do of any of the couples, and they spent most of their time at Rhunön's, helping in the ways Willow and Varhog were when those two grew weary.

The evening before the party planned to leave, Rhunön instructed Willow to return after Arya's baby was born to retrieve her garment. Rhunön felt confident she would finish within a fortnight, and that was the approximate length of time the Riders expected to be gone, if the birth went well.


	34. Ellei-an's Meadow

34\. Ellei-an's Meadow

The next morning dawned bright and clear. It was now fully spring, and the weather in Ellesméra—while always milder and protected from the harshest elements of any season by the magic of the elves—was perfect. The vibrancy of life from every angle was overwhelming.

Eragon was clearly the most nervous, knowing that they were flying to the location where his baby would be born. The thought that he would return a father, along with the danger the baby was in, transformed him into a pacing, jittery mess while they waited for everyone to arrive.

When fully assembled, the group was actually quite large. Murtagh, Nasuada, and Elva planned to fly on Thorn. Eragon and Arya would switch off between Saphira and Fírnen, as they were already accustomed to doing. Willow and Varhog would fly with Black Thunder, while Angela and Solembum rode Sunset, also according to their usual pattern. Hanin and Maehrí planned to fly on Silvan so Silvi and Nefan could ride Vera.

"Now we just need Knilf and Bodin to complete the rainbow with their yellow and orange dragons!" Willow cried as she looked around at the mesmerizing sight. "Tomath with Snowfire's white would counter Black Thunder. And Grintuk with Kuldr's gold would oppose Silvan's silver. What a stunning sight all of the Riders will be when together. If any of us ever ride our own dragons again!" She laughed. All the rest joined her save Eragon, who anxiously rubbed his beard.

Elva timidly asked, "Since there will always be a free dragon, is there any chance I might be able ride one of them alone? As much as I hate to admit it, my gift gave me the ability to perceive that my two companions were often regretful that they were not alone on our journey here." Her eyes twinkled in delight as she cast Murtagh and Nasuada a meaningful glance. "I would not wish to cause you that same irritation for this next long stretch, Your Majesty, Your Highness." That was the first thing all morning to win a laugh from Eragon, especially hearing Murtagh referred to as Your Highness.

 _I would be glad to have you ride me, Elva,_ Saphira warmly said.

 _As would I,_ Fírnen agreed, his impossibly deep mental voice making Elva jump.

Elva laughed then said, "Thank you. I appreciate it."

They did not delay their departure after that. Many elves had come to see them off in the huge clearing where they were gathered, and a great cheer went up as the seven dragons leaped into the air once their Riders were safely strapped in.

-:-:-

The travels were smooth and enjoyable, given the good-natured companionship of the Riders. Those not of their ranks felt perfectly at ease and welcome. After leaving her parents in Sílthrim, Maehrí bragged one night around the campfire about hers and Hanin's thrilling experience immediately following their wedding.

All of the other married Riders were duly impressed. "You fell off your dragon while joined and carried on while plummeting toward the earth?" Willow repeated in disbelief, and Maehrí nodded proudly.

"We once had that idea, didn't we, darling?" Arya said with a tired smile. The journey was most difficult for her, in her advanced stage of pregnancy and with her taxing emotional burden. Willow was also becoming increasingly awkward and less comfortable by the day.

Eragon agreed, "Aye, but we have never had the courage to follow through. I can see how your plan was only successful with the element of surprise, Maehrí, but I'm still impressed you were brave enough to do it. We can all learn something from the example of our newest sister, save perhaps Willow, who is looking most anxious to one day give this experiment a trial run with an Urgal ram in the mix. You would need to get Black Thunder to fly above the clouds to give Varhog time to get going."

A great boom of laughter left Varhog's chest, and Willow clapped her hands in delight as she also laughed, equally amused by Eragon's statement as by Varhog's reaction. She was sitting between Varhog's upraised knees with her back resting against his chest as he leaned against Black Thunder's snout behind him. Everyone else also laughed. Willow thought it probably best that Elva had already retired and that Angela was nowhere to be seen.

Murtagh looked the most amazed. "I always thought my wife's idea of making love on dragon back was the most ingenious. We have been bested yet again, my dear. We shouldn't join these late night discussions that always reveal to you how pathetic I am when compared with my gallant brethren."

"Who's comparing?" Nasuada challenged. All of the married couples were in positions much like Willow and Varhog's—the pregnant women leaning back to take some of the strain off their backs and hips. Each of the males invariably had his hands on the bulge of his wife's womb, eagerly feeling for every small movement. "The baby has hiccups," Nasuada said with a tender laugh. "Can you feel that right there, Murtagh?" She moved his hand and pressed it into her belly.

After a moment he also laughed. "So it does. How extraordinary."

Willow noticed Hanin mirroring the actions of the other males with Maehrí, though her abdomen was as flat and slender as ever. Hanin caught her looking at him and gave her a telling smile.

Willow arched one eyebrow, asking both Hanin and Maehrí, _Do you have some news to share? You know any of us could reach with our minds to discover the truth. If you want to be the first to surprise us, you had best do it soon. I'm about to do just as I suggested for the burning curiosity I now feel._

Smiling, Maehrí announced, "Before Willow spoils our surprise for us, I want to take this moment to share that Hanin and I are expecting a child. We will join your ranks as parents soon after you all do, just as we have joined your ranks as married Riders."

Arya's weariness abandoned her. "Truly?" she cried, sitting forward. "Did you notice yourself becoming fertile before your marriage, Maehrí?"

"Yes, just before," Maehrí confirmed, briefly explaining her experience. She concluded by saying, "It's such a beautiful gift! We are so excited, as I'm sure you best understand."

Arya nodded. "Absolutely! Congratulations!"

The others extended the same, and each couple retired not long after.

-:-:-

The party arrived on schedule to Ellei-an's meadow. Angela took the lead as the group drew nearer their destination. They could see from their view in the sky that they were just north of the small chunk of bare land that appeared as a bite removed from the south-eastern peninsula of Du Weldenvarden, where it jutted into the Hadarac desert. The location was remote, hundreds of miles from the nearest city of Ceris or from the Gaena River.

Arya was just under thirty-seven weeks pregnant. She wanted several days to rest and gain all the strength she could for her coming effort, which would be of an equivalent magnitude as undergoing the natural labor process. After the first sleepless night for both her and Eragon, Angela prepared an herbal blend that would allow them to sleep undisturbed.

It worked beautifully. Both Arya and Eragon rested better and more deeply than they had in many years and for Arya, better than at any other time in her life. The herbal preparation let them both enter a deep, dreamless sleep, something neither one of them usually did with the waking dreams of the elves.

Arya was particularly grateful. The growth of her womb made nights very uncomfortable, and she often shifted restlessly and arose to relieve herself. But for those two nights before the anticipated birthday of her baby, she slept like a rock.

-:-:-

When the dawn of the long-awaited though earlier than expected day arrived, everyone awoke almost simultaneously. The beauty of the meadow seemed only enhanced by the joyful expectation in the air. The variety of plants, shrubs, trees, and flowers was stunning. As Angela had once said, all of it appeared to be preserved by some ancient spell. Small woodland creatures had been frequent visitors, and they acted especially interested in Arya, as if she most belonged in this location with her physical and emotional similarities to Ellei-an.

After a simple, filling breakfast, Arya said, "Well, I suppose I should go ahead and get started. No reason to delay. This could take some time. It will probably get boring if you all sit down and watch with the hope of seeing a baby in the next hour. My time has not yet arrived and as such, my womb will require much coaxing to open when its whole purpose is to remain protectively closed until the baby has finished growing. If the magic takes very long, I will need help to sustain my efforts, and I don't want it to be Eragon. I mean, I do, but I need him fresh and alert as the actual moment of birth draws nigh. Everyone can help. Perhaps you can take turns so no one gets too tired. Or just draw straight from your dragons. Fírnen is planning on helping me. Any questions?"

No one had any. They had exhaustively reviewed the details, possible scenarios, and tasks that might need attending to and prepared all necessary supplies. Everyone was anxious to begin, but no one more than Arya.

She turned to Eragon, giving him an excited smile. "Are you ready to meet our baby, darling?"

Eragon shakily returned her smile and wrapped his arms around her. "Yes, Arya. As ready as I'll ever be. Just tell me anything—everything—you need me to do, and I will do it if it is within my power."

Arya nodded, and they made their way to the predetermined location under the branches of an ancient tree. Eragon sat first, facing east so the warm sun would be on them in the cool morning air. He situated himself against the trunk before extending his arms toward Arya. She sat in front of him, leaning back into his chest.

After taking a deep breath and resolutely closing her eyes, Arya began singing, her hands resting on her womb with Eragon's on either side.

An hour later, there was no perceptible difference in Arya's womb, and she stopped singing. Before she could even ask, Elva appeared in front of her with a water skin.

"I knew you needed it," Elva quietly explained. "And you need to keep up your strength by eating. You will appreciate something light and juicy like this." She handed Eragon a bunch of grapes. "And I think Arya's efforts would be more fruitful if you and any of the others would join in her singing." Eragon thanked her, and Elva returned to where she had been sitting next to Angela and Solembum.

After her brief respite, Arya took up her song once more, and Eragon joined her. It was a song of love, life, and invitation. They sang to encourage Arya's womb to relax its tenacious hold, reassuring her body that the baby would be well and that it was essential for it to be born early.

When another hour had passed and they had only achieved a small softening of Arya's cervix, Willow began singing with them. The song repeated over and over, so all listening had memorized it early on. Everyone present could see how tired Arya and Eragon were becoming, though Fírnen and Saphira were strengthening them with a steady supply of energy. And Arya was clearly discouraged by how little progress they were making. Arya looked up, giving Willow a grateful smile.

As soon as Willow started singing and Arya welcomed it as she did, Varhog joined Willow. Arya jumped in surprise as the power of his deep voice and the strength of his body came through the magic, producing the first noticeable shift in her womb. Seeing how much a combined effort was helping, Hanin, Maehrí, and Murtagh united their voices with those of the four already singing.

Angela almost joined, but Elva cast her a furtive look and shook her head. "Why not, Elva?" Angela whispered.

Elva softly replied, "Can you not sense the synergy? There are seven voices now singing and each belongs to a Dragon Rider. That number and their bond are both powerful forces creating a beautiful harmony that is finally eliciting the desired effect. Arya's womb is opening. Through her, her body can sense the perfect peace and unity of this environment and finally trusts that it is safe to ease its hold on her baby." Angela nodded, understanding the wisdom of Elva's words.

-:-:-

By early evening, Arya's womb was completely open. Each of the dragons had become involved by supplying their Riders with vitality to sustain the long magic. The dragons crouched as close behind their respective Riders as the proximity of the circle allowed, peering with craned necks and curious eyes into the opening where Eragon and Arya sat at the head.

When Arya stopped singing, all of the others did as well. The sudden silence was a startling contrast to the harmonious tones of the lovely song, which had continued uninterrupted for many hours. Arya ate and drank before attempting to relieve herself. She successfully moved her bowels, which she knew was important to allow the baby to descend through the birth path, but the pressure against her bladder with her womb fully open prevented her from successfully draining it.

When she returned to Eragon, for she had left the circle to seek privacy, Arya joked, "I suppose you might get to see me relieve myself after all, darling. I'm sure as I now engage in pushing this baby out, I will also succeed at some point in emptying my bladder."

Arya was in high spirits, for the song had accomplished her desire of opening her womb without endangering the baby, who seemed as peaceful and healthy as ever. It had been lovingly serenaded for nearly the entire day, and its heartbeat was strong and reassuring.

The others had also eaten and taken care of their needs, knowing the next stretch would end with the arrival of the baby. Their anticipation was high as everyone now felt invested in the successful outcome of the birth.

Eragon and Arya returned to their seat, where Hanin and Maehrí had covered the ground with clean, soft cloths to create a hygienic area for when the baby arrived. While Eragon held up a blanket to preserve her modesty, Arya removed her leggings and the top shirt she wore, leaving her undershirt on. It was different from many she had, fastening in the front, which would allow for easy opening after the baby was born. She instructed Eragon to remove his shirt with the explanation that she wanted to feel his chest behind her. Then she once again sat in front of him, settling comfortably into the circle of his arms as he pulled the warm blanket over her bare legs.

Without help from her still womb, Arya knew that if the new song did not result in the baby's birth, the next effort would be hers alone, and she was worried she wouldn't have the strength to accomplish it since she was already so weary. But she was determined to persevere, for it was nearly time to meet her baby and she was immensely excited.

Arya called Hanin and Maehrí, who knew the song as well as all elves, having learned it early in their studies about new life. Arya asked if they would sing to her baby and invite it to enter the world, hoping to save her strength in the event that she would need to expel the baby on her own.

The two immediately agreed, considering it the highest honor. Their beautiful voices brought tears to everyone's eyes as they harmonized in the most heavenly ways, holding hands and each laying their free hand on Arya's womb.

The two elves sang for over an hour. In that time, the baby strove most valiantly to accept their invitation and exit its mother's womb, but it had descended only a small distance by the time Arya allowed the two singing to stop.

"The baby is either too small to push itself out or cannot move any farther," Arya said. "It has tried most diligently, but since it is weeks before it should be having to do this, the baby is too weary to continue. I do not want to tire it anymore. The next stage will be trying enough as it is. Thank you so much, Hanin and Maehrí. That was lovely. I will push it out." The two withdrew a small distance, sitting again between the other married couples.

Arya was already exhausted, but she resolutely raised herself up to squat in front of Eragon, creating enough space under her body for the baby to emerge. She took several deep, steadying breaths. After her last slow exhale, she inhaled for a full thirty seconds before holding it in and leaning over her womb, firmly pushing with all the muscles of her torso. Arya concurrently let out her breath, focusing all of the power of the exhalation toward the opening of her body since the strength of her lungs would also assist her.

Arya's whole body remained tense for over a minute as she braced her hands against Eragon's legs. When she relaxed and sank into him, breathing deeply to replenish her air, Eragon asked, "Is there anything I can do to help you, my love? Keep your hair back? Hold your arms? Support under your legs? I don't want to touch you if it is unwelcome at this stage."

"Your touch is always welcome, Eragon," Arya breathed, turning her face to the side so she could press her cheek into his chest. "For now, hold my hair back. I will tell you if I need you to do any more. I'm not sure how far the baby will descend before I might be too weary. I thought I felt it move down some, but the efforts of the womb in expelling the baby are mighty and to duplicate them on my own is just not possible."

Arya breathed deeply another few minutes to regain her strength before beginning her next effort. Eragon dutifully gathered her hair and kept it from falling into her eyes as she repeated the breathing in and out of the first time and curled around her womb once more, pushing longer and harder.

When Arya next relaxed, she was exhausted and overwhelmed, not knowing if she could carry on. Though she had only pushed twice, she was nearly drained of the strength to continue.

But right then Willow whispered, "You're so strong, Arya. The baby moved down noticeably that time. It is nearly to the opening."

Arya gratefully looked up at Willow as she rested against Eragon, reaching a hand into her body and saying in weary excitement, "The baby is so close, Eragon. I can feel its head with my fingers. Do you want to?" Eragon gently slid two fingers into Arya and exclaimed in quiet amazement.

Arya rested longer that time, reassured she need not hurry by the steady beating of the baby's heart. She then instructed Eragon to assist her by pushing on the top of her womb. Eragon twisted Arya's hair into a long strand that he held in place between their bodies with his chest. When she next leaned forward, Eragon reached around her, gently placing his hands at the top of her enlarged womb. He carefully pushed as she bore down in her most determined effort yet.

The females' shared gasp of wonder indicated Eragon and Arya's success in bringing their baby's head forth out of her body. As Arya relaxed, however, her own cry was not of joy but of alarm. The baby's new position had resulted in the steady decrease of its heart rate until it finally faltered and extinguished.

"No!" she cried, reaching down to feel her baby's head. "Eragon, the baby's heart has stopped! We need to get it out. Again!" She hadn't recovered, but she took another deep breath and bore down. The baby didn't budge. Arya pushed twice more, barely breathing at all in between, but the baby still did not fully emerge. Several minutes had passed, the baby's heart remaining quiet all that time. Arya collapsed against Eragon, gasping for breath.

"I cannot continue!" she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so exhausted. Why won't the baby descend? It's dying, Eragon!" She was growing hysterical.

"Breathe, Arya," he soothed, stroking her arms. "You need to regain some strength. Could it be stuck?"

"Of course!" she cried, feverishly grasping at his idea. In her anxiety, all of her thought had been on getting the baby out. Her education had left her awareness, but she now remembered that his suggestion was a likely possibility. "Though at three weeks preterm it is surely small enough to fit, perhaps its shoulders are wedged in my pelvis. I will move to my hands and knees so my pelvis can open as wide as possible. Be prepared to catch it, Eragon. Help me. Hurry!"

-:-:-

Eragon helped Arya to the indicated position and was amazed to see his baby's face pointing right toward him when he knelt down behind her. Though the light of the sun was fading, he could still see perfectly well, and the tiny face looked so scrunched up, as if the baby was in pain. Eragon realized that might be the case, but what shocked him the most was the baby's color. It was dark, so dark blue as to almost be black. The baby had not had fresh oxygen to its brain since its heart had stopped. The cord around its neck must have tightened during the baby's descent until it completely cut off the flow of blood. The feelings of panic Eragon had been fighting increased alarmingly.

Eragon then urged, "Hurry, Arya! There isn't much time, if any."

Arya needed no further prompting. She took a great breath and pushed with all her might, lowering her hips toward the ground as she did.

Eragon waited with his hands near the baby's head. "Please, baby," he begged. "Come out." Arya was straining so hard, a low cry of pain building on her lips until it tore from her throat as a loud scream. Eragon flinched at the sound, nearly crazy with worry for Arya and the baby.

The baby tried to descend, but it was held back. Its shoulders began to emerge slightly, and Eragon was horrified to see blood trickling toward its face from the area where its chest was still hidden inside of Arya's body. It must have been from Arya, but with the slight progress Arya had achieved, Eragon saw that the baby's shoulders were not stuck. The cord wrapped around the baby's neck was pulling ever tighter with each small fraction it advanced out of Arya's body, its length insufficient to allow the baby's birth. Eragon could see the cord stretching away from the baby's neck in two places—from its navel to the neck and from its neck back to the placenta.

Eragon knew what he had to do. Arya was wholly focused on her task, so without even consulting her, he reached two fingers of one hand to the taut length of cord, hoping he held the end that stretched from the baby's neck to the placenta. He held his other hand under the baby, preparing to catch it once the tether was released and performing the spell they had practiced earlier, which both sealed and severed the cord. The baby abruptly fell into his hands, a gush of blood and fluid following.

Arya cried out again—this time in relief—and lowered herself to the ground, resting her head on her arms and her hips over her ankles, able to achieve the position because of the sudden absence of the baby in her body.

Eragon swiftly loosened the cinched cord from around the baby's neck, automatically counting each time he unwrapped it. Four. It had been circled four times around the neck. He rested the baby on his lap, doing as Myrin had after her baby was born and milking blood from the cord into its body. But he was devastated to see that it had not the same effect. His baby's body and head had been so long deprived of blood and oxygen that the little he received now did not make up for it.

He? Eragon had subconsciously identified his child as a son without registering it in his panic over the baby's condition. For Arya's benefit he whispered, "A son, my love. We have a son." But his heart was heavy as he held the tiny infant in his hands, for it was lifeless. No movement twitched its limbs, no sounds came from its mouth. Eragon desperately reached his mind toward his baby's body, searching for any spark indicating he was still alive and might be saved, but all was dark and still.

 _Saphira, please! Is there anything you can do? Can the dragons help?_

Eragon already knew from her mind that she and the other dragons had been trying to assist him. Though the emotion of the moment was so intense, they had not succeeded in harnessing the magic of the dragons.

 _I am so sorry, little one_ , Saphira despairingly consoled, her own grief nearly as crippling as Eragon's _. We cannot restore him. He is . . . gone._

Great tears welled up in Eragon's eyes. The baby was otherwise so perfect. Every miniature detail was so exquisite and well-formed. A sob left his throat as he pressed his son to his chest. He was still warm, but it was fading.

"Brom," he whispered. "We wanted to name you Brom if you were a son, after my father, your grandfather. He has already passed on, like you, though you just came to us. Perhaps you will soon meet him and he will love you where we could not." Eragon choked as the sobs intensified. "My son, my son. I am so sorry."

-:-:-

Arya had been painfully aware of the stillness of her baby's heart since it had stopped beating, having continually focused a part of her mind on it from the moment it had first started pounding. The absence of that reassuring patter created a shocking stillness in her mind. She heard Eragon's words to their lifeless son, and her own sobs began before she could resume an upright position and turn toward him.

Once she had, Arya saw their baby under Eragon's gentle hands. His head was covered in thick dark hair. She reached out, gently stroking it as rivers of tears flowed down her cheeks. Though still wet, it was so soft. So unbelievably soft.

"No," Arya moaned as the pain of her loss threatened to overwhelm her. How could this be? How could they lose him right as he was born? Would she not get to press her cheek to that silky head and breathe in the precious smell only a newborn baby carried? It seemed so cruel and unfair that they would be allowed to hope for this joy only to have it torn away in such a manner at the moment of his birth. His heart had been so strong less than ten minutes ago!

"May I . . ." she gasped, "hold him?"

Eragon lifted his tear-filled eyes to Arya's. "I'm so sorry, Arya. So sorry. I did all I could, but he was already gone." He carefully scooped the limp body off his chest and transferred their son to his mother's hands.

"Please . . . open . . . my shirt . . ." Arya choked to Eragon, unable to speak clearly around her sobs as she gazed down at the perfect still form in her hands. Her baby. Her beautiful son. His eyes were closed. But for the color of his skin, he might have been sleeping. Eragon numbly fulfilled her request, returning his eyes to their son as Arya gently laid him between her breasts, where he would have spent so much time had he lived.

Arya rested her cheek to her baby's head in a moment of hopeless longing, trying to memorize in the brief time given her what it felt like to cradle her baby in her arms. Eragon pulled Arya against him, unable to control the overpowering grief that washed over and out of him. His tears fell on Arya's head and hers streamed down to the baby, while Saphira and Fírnen keened in sorrowful anguish at their Riders' loss.

* * *

 **A/N:** Chapters 35, 38, 39, and 40 contain Christian spiritual themes that some readers have found distracting and directly contradictory to Inheritance Cycle canon. If you think you would be disgruntled reading about such things, I invite you to skip those chapters.


	35. After the Birth

35\. After the Birth

The other Riders and those present for the birth observed the events unfold in stunned silence. There wasn't a dry eye among them as they beheld their valiant leader and his beloved wife lose the precious son who had just come to them. Willow's tears almost equaled Arya's as she leaned disbelievingly into Varhog, feeling weak from the crushing weight of hopelessness and despair at witnessing her cherished friends—her brother and sister—endure this trial. She was the only one who thought to do what she did.

More earnestly than ever before Willow whispered, "Holy Mother, Rahna. Please hear me. Please. Please help Eragon and Arya. Somehow help them. As one who has been through this, I know you understand their sorrow and pain unlike any other could. We need your help. We can't bear this."

The grief-stricken new parents, along with everyone else, heard her whispered supplication, and all were equally aware when the beautiful voice filled the meadow, saying, _Willow, your faith is strong. It is powerful enough to produce miracles, but I am not the steward of the elven race. She and her mate wait to be called upon, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain your brother and sister are enduring. But we cannot interfere in the affairs of those under our care unless asked. She must needs only be asked._

Arya grasped frantically at the shred of hope being extended to her. "Whom?" she cried. "Rahna! Please tell me whom I must address and I will!"

With loving compassion and kindness the voice replied, _Ellei-an. Arya, you need only address my sister, Ellei-an, and she will hear your cries._

Arya gasped in wild faith, "Ellei-an, stewardess of my race, I call on you to help me in my hour of greatest sorrow and need. I don't know if I can ask to have my baby back but that's all I want. More desperately than anything else, I want to be a mother to this beautiful son. Please help me, holy one."

At mention of her mother's name, Angela's mournful expression evolved into one of disbelief, but no one noticed, for right at that moment a blinding light appeared above the meadow and two glorious figures swiftly descended from a realm of brilliant brightness. One was tall, slender, and noble—a dark-haired, stunningly beautiful female elf. The other was short, stocky, and strong—a long-bearded, curly-haired male dwarf. With their hands joined, they walked straight to Eragon and Arya.

The woman smiled down at Arya with a look of profound, perfect love in her eyes. "My daughter. Thank you for calling on us. You have earned this blessing. Do you believe that your baby's life can be restored? Your faith is a necessary prerequisite for the miracle to be performed."

-:-:-

Arya nodded silently, dumbfounded by the sudden appearance of the heavenly beings and the promise they offered her. Though she spoke no words, her utter sincerity and unwavering faith that she could get her baby back were enough. The dwarf knelt by her and, with a kind, fatherly smile, extended his arms and gently laid his fingertips—for that was all that would fit on the tiny surface—on the baby's head where it rested next to Arya's chest.

In a deep voice of surpassing wisdom he said, "Brom, son of Eragon and Arya, by the authority I bear from Him whom we reverence as Father of us all, I say unto you, receive your spirit once again into your body."

Though the sounds of the three divine voices they had heard, one after the other, had been blessed and beautiful, the next sound that broke into the meadow was the most exquisitely blessed and beautiful of all. The baby took in a shuddering gasp. Then a small, insistent cry left his perfect, rosebud lips. He squawked weakly at first as his body regained function after its momentary stillness, then he squalled more loudly. Arya cried again, this time in stunned joy as her small son squirmed in her arms, his tiny hands and feet pushing into her chest with surprising strength. She laughed in radiant relief, pressing her cheek once more to the baby's head.

"My son," Arya breathed. "You have come back to us. Oh, how I love you, my precious baby. Brom." She lifted her head, smiling at Eragon to share her happiness. Then she turned back to Gelarik, who had performed the miracle that mended her broken heart and restored her reason for wanting to live. "Thank you, Gelarik. Thank you so much. I am inexpressibly and eternally grateful for my baby's life. I will do anything required of me to be worthy of this blessing."

Gelarik had remained kneeling close by Arya's side, and he tenderly placed one hand on her cheek, continuing to smile in the kind way that made his eyes twinkle. "You already _were_ worthy, daughter. That is why you received the blessing. You asked in faith and received, according to the law of the heavens."

-:-:-

Eragon witnessed the miracle unfold before his eyes in wondering awe, laughing in amazement as he heard the first sounds of life from his baby. Brom's skin now took on the perfectly healthy pink he had so longed to see before. Eragon placed a hand over Arya's and was overwhelmed to feel the warmth and movement indicating life, such a vibrant opposite to the stillness he had felt before. "Brom," he said softly. "He is alive, my love."

"Yes," Arya agreed. "He's perfect, Eragon. Our son. You were right all along, more than we ever realized. Faith was the answer, the way to make it through the darkness. Ours was tried and tested through the fiery infernos of hell, but we emerged triumphantly and overcame the impossible odds set against us." She reached her face toward him, and he kissed her, so overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events that had restored his son and made them a family.

He looked up at Ellei-an then over at Gelarik. "Thank you," he said fervently. "Thank you for my son, for my family."

"The order and structure of heavenly society is organized around the family, Eragon," Ellei-an replied. "That your selfless enduring has led you to it in your earthly existence is evidence of your pure heart and devoted love. Ever since you were given the calling of Dragon Rider, you have proved your willingness to sacrifice for the good of all around you, and that is the truest expression of pure love. It was the will of the Father to extend this gift to you now, for you persevered through the most demanding trials that we could inflict, never giving up nor turning back. Now enjoy this time with your baby and your wife. We will remain in my meadow to explain the mystery you came here to uncover." She turned with the most loving expression she had yet displayed to face Angela and finished, "Even why we left you, our precious daughter. We have longed to be reunited."

Angela's face was covered in tears. Gelarik stood, and the noble couple approached their daughter. Ellei-an and Gelarik were not spirits. Their bodies were physical and tangible, clearly of flesh and bone, and as they reached Angela, they enfolded her in their arms. The same expression of profound longing and love that had been in Arya's eyes as her baby first moved in her arms was now on Ellei-an's face as she and her husband held their daughter.

Eragon realized that the couple meant to wait until he and Arya had sufficient time to meet their baby. He looked down again at the wriggling boy, who was insistently searching for Arya's breast.

-:-:-

Arya was observing Brom in doting adoration, and she gently helped him accomplish his desire, knowing he might not be strong enough on his own since he was forced from his cozy home before he was fully developed. "There it is, Brom. You must help mother's body deliver the placenta so it will know to begin making your milk. I'm sorry we had to force you here early. We feared that if we waited, we might lose you, and we almost did anyway. Thank you for coming back to me, my darling. I would have been broken and empty for the rest of my long life without you."

Arya stroked his soft, fluffy hair—which was exactly the color of her own—as he suckled determinedly at the breast he had latched onto, kneading it with reflexive clenching motions from his hands. Brom finally opened his eyes, which were a milky, deep-blue, bright and alert. He gazed straight up into Arya's face, reaching one tiny hand for her, as if he knew she was speaking words of love to him. She met his small palm with her lips and kissed softly, maintaining the contact until Brom returned his hand to his face with a jerky motion. Arya laughed softly and sang to him, her joyful tears falling to his small body.

"He's so beautiful, Arya," Eragon whispered. "So perfect. What a miracle to have him alive and well. Can he see you?"

"The distance between my breasts and my face is all the farther he can see at first. He can't see colors well, but he can see contrasts, such as those created on my face by my eyebrows, eyes, and lips against my skin. It's one of the many examples to suggest that the beginnings of a new life were designed most carefully to ensure the bonding of a mother with her baby and the other way around." Arya stopped speaking and relaxed as her baby's suckling created the first natural tightening of her womb that she had experienced since she and Eragon had last made love, the stimulation of her nipples triggering the same hormonal release in her body that led to uterine contractions.

Arya thought the placenta had begun ripping away from her womb during her final push. Something painful and unrelated to Brom's emergence had seemed to occur, which was why she had screamed. But Arya didn't notice any bleeding and a quick search with her mind reassured her that the placenta was fully intact and had apparently reattached to her womb, if it had even begun to separate in the first place. Arya focused on relaxing, trusting that the placenta would eventually be born. Then the thought occurred to her that she could try to reconnect the baby's cord to the placenta so he would receive some nourishment through her blood until her body began producing breast milk.

She decided it wouldn't hurt to at least try. "Eragon, now that the cord is not around Brom's neck, do you think it would reach the end still attached to the placenta? The placenta is still affixed to my womb, and if we could reestablish the connection, Brom might get nourishment from my body to sustain him while he waits for my milk to come in. I fear it will take longer than normal since we forced him here early."

"I'll try," Eragon said. "Do you know the spell I should use? Or would you rather?"

"I will," Arya replied. "I'm familiar with the structure of the umbilical cord and how the blood vessels are meant to function. If you can bring the ends together, I'll take over from there."

"The cord retracted somewhat into your body after I severed Brom from your womb. It was stretched so taut, which is why he couldn't descend. The cord was wrapped four times around his neck, and the remaining length was not enough to allow him to emerge from you. I'm worried my hand won't fit to retrieve it, and I don't want to hurt you. Could Willow or Maehrí perhaps assist us?"

"A marvelous idea," Arya approved, looking up. "Willow, are you familiar with this kind of healing?"

"Not extremely," Willow admitted, glancing over at Maehrí. "Are you, sister?" Maehrí nodded. "Then you should do it," Willow continued. "You'll also have an easier time reaching, without a great belly to work around."

Maehrí stood and swiftly made her way over. A bucket of water and bar of soap had been prepared in advance, and Maehrí washed her hands before kneeling in front of Arya. Then she freed the length of cord still attached to Brom to determine if it would stretch the necessary distance. It reached the opening of Arya's body with several inches to spare, so Maehrí gently extended her hand into Arya, searching until she found the other end of the umbilical cord and matching them together.

"I could perform the spell, Arya," Maehrí offered. "I would be honored."

"Please," Arya allowed. She was so tired. All she wanted was to sleep.

Maehrí murmured the words of power in the ancient language, and since the cord had originally been so neatly severed with magic, it immediately rejoined into a seamless length. They could instantly see that Maehrí's efforts had been successful. With the next contraction of Arya's womb, which happened at that moment, the cord—which had been white and slack—filled with blood and became thick, knobby, and purple.

That the blood reached Brom was also clearly evident. His skin took on a rosy flush, and he relaxed in contentment. All of his efforts at Arya's breast were gaining him nothing in return, for nothing was yet there. Her breasts were in the very beginning stages of preparing the colostrum, or first milk, and the process would have continued for the remaining three weeks of her term so he would have had a few drops to reward his diligent suckling had he been born at forty weeks gestation.

Arya sighed in relief that her baby would continue to receive the nourishment he needed while her body attempted to catch up with the prematurely forced events. The fact that her womb had experienced no natural contractions during the whole birth would be confusing for her body. Those surges, along with the detachment of the placenta, were the most definite indications of the end of pregnancy and signaled the start of breast milk production.

"Thank you, Maehrí," Arya whispered. "See how much it helped him?"

Maehrí nodded. "It was an honor, Arya Svit-kona. He's beautiful. So beautiful." She returned to Hanin, and as Arya followed her with her eyes, she once again looked at Willow, who was watching rapturously. Arya heart flowed over with gratitude, and her recently dry eyes brimmed again with tears.

"Willow," Arya softly invited. "Please come here."

Varhog stood to help her up. Willow stiffly arose, stretching before trying to move. She leaned against Varhog when she swayed unsteadily after rising so suddenly from such a long maintained sitting position. Varhog continued to support her arm as she walked the short distance to where Arya was relaxing against Eragon.

Willow knelt down in front of Arya. "Yes, sister?"

Arya's tears spilled down her cheeks. "I never could have gotten a better sister, not even if I had made a long list of special requests. See my baby, Willow?" Willow nodded, her tears also streaming once again. "Thank you for him, Willow. Thank you _so much_. I never would have thought to pray. You know it's true because you saw my despair, and yet words of faith never even came to my mind. _You_ are the reason this miracle unfolded, and I will be eternally grateful, my beloved sister. Not only have you given me my son, you have also given me the most powerful lesson in faith I have ever had. I'll never doubt again and will always be your humble servant." She reached her free hand—the one not supporting Brom—out toward Willow, and Willow silently grasped it, unable to speak. "Lean in and look at him," Arya then invited.

Willow did, breathing her wondrous praise. "He's so exquisite, Arya. And so tiny. So much smaller than baby Varhog was. I'm so relieved this is the final outcome. So relieved and so happy. I can't imagine how you must have been feeling because I was feeling like I would surely be crushed under the weight of hopelessness and agony I experienced while watching you. The legend of Rahna affected me so deeply when Garzhvog first shared it because I identified with her so much. I remembered how her second birth resulted in a stillborn child, and it seemed that she of all people would be able to provide some relief, at the very least, some comfort or consolation. I never foresaw the events that transpired. My faith has also grown and is now unshakable." She had kept her eyes on the sleeping infant, but she lifted them once again to Arya's face. "You're so tired, Arya. You were incredible today. All that work you did was heroic. Can you now rest?"

Arya wanted nothing more than to do just that, but she glanced uncertainly toward Ellei-an and Gelarik, who were kneeling with Angela between them.

Ellei-an must have understood her questioning look, for she said, "Rest, Life-Bringer. My mate and I are not in a hurry to return. We have waited countless years for this moment. We will remain with our daughter and enjoy some of the time we lost with her. In the morning when all have recovered, we will share the information you seek."

"Thank you," Arya whispered with her last energy. Her head drooped against Eragon's shoulder, and he awkwardly attempted to shift down.

-:-:-

Eragon looked up at Varhog. "Will you please help me? I don't think I can sleep with my back against this tree, but I don't want to disturb Arya or the baby." Arya murmured as if trying to indicate she was still alert, but it didn't convince anyone. "Some pillows might be nice and another blanket that isn't soaked." Before Varhog could even turn, Hanin was there with the requested items. Murtagh and Nasuada also made their way over to observe and offer their silent congratulations. They smiled down at Eragon, who tiredly returned it.

Hanin held the bedding while Varhog knelt and helped Eragon achieve a reclined position over the blood and fluid-soaked cloths. Seeing Varhog's concerned look at the mess, Eragon dismissed, "I don't even care right now, brother. My wife is safe. My son is alive. We need to sleep."

Willow and Maehrí at least removed the wetness from the cloths so they wouldn't become cold, leaving the rest of the mess for a later time.

Once Eragon was comfortable with several pillows behind his head and back to prop him up, Varhog lifted Arya as easily as if she were Brom, placing her free side—the one opposite the baby—against Eragon's chest. Eragon put his arm around her so her head rested on his shoulder where it would not jerk down in sleep. When Eragon confirmed his comfort and they all decided Arya was as comfortable as she could be, Varhog spread the blanket Hanin held out to him over Eragon, Arya, and the baby, keeping it carefully away from Brom's face. He helped Eragon get another blanket around his bare shoulders—Arya's were still covered with her undershirt—so they wouldn't feel cold during the night, then they all left the new family to sleep in peace.

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains brief mention of a Mature love scene.


	36. The Afterbirth

36\. The Afterbirth

Every couple and both of the families—Eragon's and Gelarik's—along with Elva and all of the dragons, slept deeply that night. All through the still hours, the meadow sang its delight at the wondrous events of the day, creating a peaceful, soothing susurration of insects, night creatures, and rustling plants.

When morning dawned, the rays of the sun fell on the little family, still in the location where they had begun the previous day. Brom's mouth had never left Arya's breast, nor had the placenta yet detached from her womb, so he had slept as deeply as if he were still nestled snugly inside his mother. Indeed, her reassuring warmth, familiar smell, and the steady beat of her heart were all sensations he knew well from his time inside. But when the sun fell on his face, he squinted his closed eyes at the unfamiliar brightness and stretched, which made him lose his grasp of his mother's nipple. He squawked tentatively, wanting it back but not sure how to get it.

Arya stirred at the first sound from her baby since he had been restored to life and taken her breast. She had slept as deeply as when she had used Angela's herbal blend, for the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion of Brom's birthday had been profoundly complete. She awoke to find herself pressed against Eragon's shoulder with her tiny baby searching doggedly for the nipple he had lost.

"Hello, little one," Arya crooned, almost surprised to find him there. She realized part of her must have thought the miraculous events of the previous day were all part of a strange, prolonged dream involving hours of singing and so many tears. Rivers of tears, both happy and sad. "Why don't we try the other side now?" she lovingly suggested in the high, sing-song falsetto every woman instinctively adapted when speaking to an infant or small child.

Arya attempted to lift herself to a sitting position but found the muscles of her abdomen so weak that she was completely unable to. Her intensive pushing efforts of the day before along with the many months of stretching under her growing womb had temporarily robbed her of her usual strength. The baby was becoming more insistent, his weak squawks increasing in volume. Though he still would not get milk for his efforts, he seemed to instinctively know that suckling at his mother's breasts was what he nonetheless needed to do to encourage the milk to start flowing.

Arya turned her face into Eragon's shoulder, breathing deeply and feeling the familiar fluttering of longing in her stomach that she had necessarily suppressed for so many weeks. Now that the baby was born, she wouldn't need to much longer. "Eragon," she murmured, and he stirred and mumbled, trying to respond with his usual alacrity. Arya guessed he had slept just as deeply as she, and she waited patiently, kissing his shoulder and continuing to breathe in his smell until he finally managed to rouse himself.

"Yes, my love," Eragon sleepily replied. "What can I do for you?"

Arya smiled that he was immediately ready to serve her. "The baby would like to continue nursing, and I want to shift him to my other breast, but I can't sit up. Would you please help me?"

"Baby?" Eragon muttered, still regaining full awareness. "We had our baby, didn't we? The events of yesterday seem as a dream to me the way my brain is recalling them." He sat up, taking Arya with him.

"I know exactly what you mean," Arya agreed. "And yet here he is. Our little Brom. His color is so improved, isn't it? He looks perfectly healthy, though so small." She shifted their son in her arms so he could latch himself onto her other breast, which she expertly supported as she leaned back into Eragon.

"What's all of this on his skin?" Eragon wondered, brushing his fingers over the thin wrinkles on Brom's back, which were filled with a whitish, waxy substance.

"It's called vernix," Arya replied. "It's a protective, waxy covering that coats the baby's skin, providing a barrier to the constant exposure to the amniotic fluid within the womb. You can gently rub it in. It will continue to protect his skin and keep it from drying out excessively. He has so much because he was born early. A baby born at full term has less, and one that comes after term even less."

She paused as the baby's eager sucking resulted in a strong tightening of her womb, filling the umbilical cord with another gush of blood. "At least Brom is getting some nourishment from his efforts," Arya commented, "though not in the way he expects. I wonder how long it will take for the placenta to detach. I'm grateful it continues to supply him with nourishment, but I'm also anxious to eat it. I know it will help my milk come in more quickly than anything else. Because it is still attached to my womb, the most unmistakable signal that my pregnancy is now over has not yet reached my body."

"He looks so thin and wiry," Eragon commented.

"Yes, darling. The baby's greatest gains of fat occur during the last weeks of pregnancy. The baby stores a certain type of fat—brown fat—that he won't have at any other time in his life. It's meant to support his life in the early days when his mother's milk supply is being established. Some weight loss is normal during that period but thanks to the fat, it's usually not harmful. However, Brom didn't get the full opportunity to develop that, so I'm going to jealously insist he remain at my breasts so he will get the milk just as soon as it comes. He will sleep excessively these next several months, mimicking what he would have done had he remained inside of me, and continuing on in the following weeks, as all newborns do. It usually takes several weeks to a couple of months for a baby to become aware it has joined a world with other creatures in it. I'm sorry, Eragon. I think this will be best for him."

Eragon laughed. "Arya, don't apologize. I'm not upset. I wouldn't have it any other way. I trust you completely to know what's best for our son. As long as I can hold _you_ in my arms while you hold Brom, I'll consider it the same privilege. Just seeing him cradled there is as beautiful as I always imagined it would be. You're a mother, Arya. How does it feel?"

"Divine," she gushed. "I can still hardly believe it. Less than a year ago, I was cold and lonely in Ellesméra. Now I'm your wife and a mother. I'm so happy, Eragon. So perfectly full of joy. Thank you for making me a mother, my husband."

Eragon leaned over and kissed her. When he pulled back, Arya murmured, "Don't stop, darling. Kiss me longer." So he did, putting a hand at the back of her neck. As they allowed the kiss to evolve, both felt the rekindling of their deep longing.

Arya pulled away, quickly glancing around. None of the other couples were in sight, nor were any of the single members of their party, but she guessed that would not long be the case with the sun rising. She turned back to her husband. "Will you make love with me, Eragon? Please. I don't want to wait anymore, and perhaps we can encourage a strong enough contraction that the placenta will be born."

"Would that be wise, Arya? The opening to your body was stretched so insistently yesterday and the cord is still there. What of your womb? It's still loose and expanded."

"This will help," Arya insisted. "We most likely haven't much time. Much more delay and we just might fulfill one of our ideas of making love in front of everyone. Please, Eragon?"

"You needn't beg like that, Arya. I want you so much right now. I've never been more in love with you, mother of my son. My only hesitation is in ensuring your wellbeing. And Brom's. Will he be all right?"

"Certainly," Arya said. "He's a much less awkward obstacle to work around right here in my arms than enclosed in my womb. Help me turn around."

So Eragon did, insisting, "Arya, tell me at once if it's uncomfortable." She nodded, and he shifted his weight enough to pull his pants down.

At one point Arya said, "I should warn you. If this successfully causes the placenta to detach, there will be a lot of blood, especially once we're done. It won't be a sign that I'm in danger. I just don't want you to be alarmed."

"Thank you, Arya. You know how I feel about seeing large quantities of blood. I'll try not to be worried."

When their efforts brought about the first powerful contraction in her uterus, Arya relaxed with a focused look on her face then said, "I definitely think that helped."

Eragon offered to continue, in order to help with the placenta, which proposal Arya gladly accepted.

As the next contraction overpowered her womb, Arya relaxed again. When it was over, she breathlessly informed Eragon, "I think the placenta began to separate. It wasn't painful, so that must not have been what happened yesterday. I'm sorry for screaming right before Brom was born. I know how that must have affected you, but something painful happened and I was too tired to control my reaction. At first I thought the placenta must be tearing away from the uterine wall, but it must have been something else because I haven't bled excessively, which I would have expected if part of the placenta was free."

-:-:-

Eragon's face was pressed into her chest, and he was breathing deeply after the amazing sensation of channeling all of his love and adoration into her. "Shall we see if we were successful?" he asked after regaining his composure.

"Yes," Arya said.

Eragon lifted Arya by her hips, and as she had warned, a large amount of blood flowed from her body. If he hadn't been prepared, Eragon would have panicked. As it was, he was still shaky at the sight because it was coming from Arya. His only previous experience with that amount of blood leaving a living person's body all at once was after a mortal wound to the heart or neck drained them of life.

The placenta also flowed out of her in the rush, and Arya smiled triumphantly. "It worked! Good. Now I want to eat it. As much as I can while it's fresh and raw like this. And that very well might be all of it for how famished I am. It will be most beneficial with all of its properties live and unaltered by heat. Are there any fresh rags around? I'm not repulsed in the slightest by the thought of what I'm about to do, as odd as that sounds, since I've never consumed meat in any form, but it might be frightening for the others to find me with blood all over my face like I just killed and devoured a beast with my bare hands."

Eragon laughed, looking around until he found what Arya desired. He offered her the clean towel, but Arya asked him to spread it out, and she laid the placenta on it, folded the towel over, and pressed down firmly, repeating her actions over the whole organ. As she did, Eragon took the umbilical cord between two of his fingers and repeated the spell that would seal and sever it.

Arya finished removing the excess blood from the placenta, so she opened the towel and pinched a bit of meat off the coarse side that had been attached to her womb. She put it in her mouth and looked at Eragon while she chewed and swallowed, giving him an appreciative smile once she had. "That's good!" she said in amazement, taking more and repeating the process, as if some primal instinct were urging her on.

Eragon wryly commented, "You make it look so delicious, _I'm_ tempted to try some. My stomach is about to eat me alive."

"By all means," Arya said with a laugh, extending a bite toward him.

Eragon grinned. "No, I think I'll pass. Not because I'm afraid, but because I know how much _you_ need it. I'm not sure if an organ full of female hormones that just sustained a pregnancy for over eight months would be beneficial for a man."

"True," Arya agreed after another swallow.

-:-:-

Arya was nearly finished when the first of the others arrived to check on them. She wasn't surprised to see Willow and Varhog, and she was also glad.

"Look how busy you've been!" Willow cried happily, noticing many things at once. Arya laughed as Eragon flushed and hastily pulled up his pants, though he was covered all over in various fluids. "Never fear, brother!" Willow reassured him. "You've seen me in much the same way before."

When Varhog raised his eyebrows in surprise, Willow explained, "It was after I almost lost the babies and you had to leave. Eragon carried me to the washroom and stayed to help Arya while she washed me up." She laughed as Varhog relaxed. "So the morning after giving birth? Wasted no time, did you?"

Arya laughed again, amazed by how quickly the placenta was healing her. The steady flow of blood out of her body had decreased to a slow trickle as her womb began shrinking back to its pre-pregnancy size. She felt a warm flush in her breasts as the combined effect of having the placenta detach and consuming it raw was forcing her body into full-blown lactation.

"No, we certainly didn't," Arya agreed in answer to Willow's question. "The last time we made love was right after we left you at Rhunön's forge, when you had finished telling me about the spider. That has been how long? Three weeks? Four? It seemed like an eternity, however long it was. And the placenta still hadn't detached. It was providing Brom with blood and nourishment, but I wanted to eat it so my milk would come in for him more quickly."

"And how is it?" Willow wondered.

"Good!" Arya exclaimed, eating another bite.

"You've eaten most of it raw," Willow observed.

"Yes, I knew it would help me more quickly this way, not to mention how hungry I was. Poor Eragon here has been salivating over there, wishing for a good raw steak of his own." Arya giggled. "I feel amazing! So energized and vibrant."

"You look it," Willow said. "You looked so worn out last night and rightfully so. Here, brother. We figured you would be hungry. It's nice to understand one another as Riders, isn't it? Varhog is always hungry. Did I tell you how the spider shared with me that some females eat the males they mate with after they're done?"

Arya laughed, shaking her head as Willow continued, "Sometimes I look at my manly mate here and think that might be nice. Especially at night when our passionate lovemaking has done nothing to satiate my hunger and has only increased the other kind. _This_ kind," she specified, tossing a bundle of food into Eragon's lap.

They were all laughing with Willow, and Varhog gave her a playful squeeze. "You have enough to spare, sweetheart," she teased. "You'd never miss a little bite nibbled out here and there."

"So _that's_ what you were trying to do last night," Varhog joked.

"If only I had your fangs, I just might be able to manage it," Willow returned with mock regret. Varhog growled right next to her ear, and she laughed.

"And how is the baby this morning?" Willow cried, dropping to her knees as Eragon eagerly delved into the contents of the bundle and began eating the first thing he came across, which was an apple.

"Marvelous!" Arya gushed. "Just look at him. Isn't he the most precious thing in the world? He lost my breast once and let out the sweetest little protests until I could help him regain it. Other than that, he has been a perfect angel, unable to make the smallest noise around the nipple constantly filling his mouth." She giggled again. Having eaten all of the fleshy parts of the placenta, Arya continued on with the smoother side that had faced the baby and from which the amniotic sac grew.

"You really are going to eat all of that, aren't you, my love?" Eragon asked dryly, moving on to a loaf of bread and wedge of cheese.

"Yes," Arya said. "Especially since it doesn't look like you'll be saving me anything else." She smiled sweetly at his slightly guilty expression. "Never fear, darling. There are yet two couples to come visit us this morning and with wives in the mix, they are sure to remember every possible detail, not the least of which is that we'll be hungry. They know they're expected to wait on us hand and foot until we see fit to be responsible once more." She smiled in delight.

"You know, there really is something to eating that," Eragon mused. "You're looking amazingly well, Arya. Radiant. And you seem to be perfectly happy and balanced. I had come to expect that a woman who had just given birth would be pale, tired, grumpy, and emotional. Willow, do you think you might be able to spare any of your placenta, since it's sure to be so large after the demands of growing two? Arya just might be coming down off this high by then, and I wouldn't want her to feel the pangs of withdrawal."

Arya laughed elatedly, as did Willow. "I'm sure I'll need every last bit of it to replenish my body after the demands of growing this monster's two huge cubs," Willow ruefully rejoined, glancing up at Varhog with a teasing smile. "Every time I say that, I still picture two furry little bears popping out of me." She giggled as Varhog's deep chuckle boomed out of him, reaching up so he could pull her to her feet. Then she wrapped her arms around him, arching her back so her belly wouldn't be such an obstacle. "I wish we could still dance in our favorite way," Willow said with playful sadness.

"What way is that?" Arya wondered in amusement.

"This way," Varhog said, hunching around Willow's belly and placing her on his feet. He shuffled about awkwardly because of his stooped posture, humming in feigned earnestness, as if what he was doing was the most serious and formal dance imaginable.

Willow laughed in delight and held on around his neck. "Such a graceful dancing ram," she said in a low, teasing voice, also assuming an expression of deep sincerity and sternness. "I challenge you to attempt this again in another month."

"I accept," Varhog said, giving her a quick kiss.

"You two are adorable," Arya approved. "How far along are you now, Willow? I'm sorry I haven't kept better track."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Willow dismissed. "I'm about twenty-seven and a half weeks along. Oh!" she exclaimed. "Varhog, did you feel your baby just kick you? He's already learning how to be a fighter. Or a dancer."

"He?" Arya wondered. "Did you find out then?"

"No," Willow said with a laugh. "I just always imagine sons, so I often refer to them that way. We decided that if they're sons we would name them William, after my father, and Varhog, after their father."

"What about daughters?" Arya asked.

"Willow and Monrow," Varhog answered. "Monrow was Willow's mother's name, and I love the idea of honoring her like that."

"How lovely," Arya cried.

Eragon said, "Did I tell you Murtagh discovered he's having a daughter?" They all shook their heads. "Yes, he told me when I scryed him, but Nasuada wants to be surprised, so don't spoil it for her."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Willow promised. "Look, here they come now, along with Hanin and Maehrí. I think your chances of getting more food are promising, brother."

"Good," Eragon said, shaking out the empty bundle.

The newcomers approached with bright smiles. "What a mess," Murtagh playfully commented. "Arya, what _have_ you been doing?" She had dry blood all over her hands.

"Devouring my placenta like a ravenous beast," Arya smoothly replied. "I didn't save you any, brother, so don't even bother asking."

Murtagh chuckled appreciatively at her quick wit. "You seem to be feeling well," he observed.

"Marvelous!" Arya exclaimed. "Don't try to sneak any of Nasuada's either, if you want her to be in as good of a mood as I am the day after your baby is born. Oh, and you'll also need to make love to her right away. That helped quite a lot, don't you think, Eragon?"

Eragon laughed. "You really are as uninhibited as you have ever been, aren't you, my love? And yes, I certainly do think that helped. Perhaps me more than anyone."

"You do look remarkably improved, Eragon," Murtagh agreed. "Though making love can hardly be the only reason. The fact that your wife and son are both healthy and alive is surely the greater cause. Congratulations, brother. May I have a closer look?"

"Thank you, Murtagh," Eragon said, looking to Arya for permission.

"Please," Arya invited.

Murtagh crouched down and peered at the baby's face. "He's a tiny little fellow, isn't he? But very handsome. What color are his eyes?"

"Milky, dark blue," Arya replied. "Which is the eye color of most light-skinned babies at birth. They very well might change in the coming months."

"His hair seems to be yours," Murtagh observed. "Perhaps his eyes will be as well. Hanin, you might have some fierce competition for handsomest male."

Hanin laughed, and it only grew louder when three females—Arya, Willow, and Nasuada—all said at exactly the same moment, "He already does," referring to the fact that they each thought _their_ husband the handsomest. Then everyone laughed together.

Nasuada knelt by her husband—who had looked up at her in affection at her remark and its implication—and smiled lovingly at the baby. "Well done, Arya," she murmured. "He's stunning. Are you recovering? You truly do look amazing. Your cheeks are so rosy, your eyes so bright."

"I feel as if I'm perfectly recovered," Arya said. "Though when I get up to relieve myself, my legs might say otherwise. Speaking of being uninhibited. Eragon, if I can't go somewhere to relieve myself right this moment, I'll have no choice but to do so on these cloths, which really wouldn't be a problem, would it? They're already completely covered. But remember how I couldn't before Brom was born? Well, the obstruction has been removed, and now I've been holding it all night."

"Holding the obstruction or your bladder?" Murtagh asked with an innocent smile.

Arya giggled. "Both, I suppose." She looked expectantly at Eragon.

"I'll help you, my love," Eragon said, scooping up Arya as he stood. She had pulled the blanket over her lap as Willow and Varhog approached, so he simply kept that around her.

As he turned to go off into some bushes, Hanin informed him, "We've heated some water and prepared a bath for you in Ellei-an's old cottage, if you care to make your way there once Arya is done. You can get washed up, and there's plenty of food left from breakfast. The others are waiting there, and when everyone is clean, fed, and content, Ellei-an and Gelarik will share the information they mentioned last night."

"Thank you, Hanin. Maehrí. Willow. Varhog. Everyone. Thank you so much for your help yesterday with the birth. For singing with us. For the miracle that saved my son's life. For helping with the cord after. For helping us get comfortable so we could rest well. For bringing us food. For being such amazing friends. I feel as if we're as close as any siblings by birth. I love you all, and I'm honored to know you." Arya nodded fervently. "We'll rejoin you soon."


	37. Grooming

37\. Grooming

When Eragon approached the cottage with Arya and Brom in his arms, Elva was waiting alone outside. She beamed at the new family. "I wanted to offer my well-wishes," she said. "Congratulations on your beautiful son, Shadeslayers."

"Thank you, Elva," Arya said. "Would you like to look at him?"

"Yes, please," she said, stepping in to gaze at the baby, who was peacefully sleeping at Arya's breast. "What a perfectly exquisite little face," Elva murmured. "That was quite the experience yesterday, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Eragon agreed. "Did you know how it would all turn out?"

"No, Eragon, I didn't. I felt the baby's pain before he died, but then he was gone. Feeling your anguish was heart-wrenching. I sensed the tide might turn somehow, but I couldn't guess how that might be. It was so fuzzy and ambiguous. I see now that it must have been because the happy ending depended on faith, and any wavering of that faith would have resulted in the same sad outcome we all first witnessed. But I sense now that the best is yet to come. The others are waiting inside, but only until you arrived. It's too small in there for all to fit, so I believe we'll all come out here, not only to give you more privacy, but so there will be enough room. I'll let them know you're here."

Elva disappeared into the cottage, returning only a moment later, followed by a steady stream of people until all were present. Gelarik spoke in his ancient, wise voice. "All here but you have eaten and attended to their needs. We will patiently await until you and your family are equally as comfortable, then you may join us out here."

Eragon nodded and entered the small house. After helping her out of her undershirt, Eragon set Arya in the basin of warm water, and she sighed in appreciation.

"It feels so wonderful," Arya admitted, holding Brom and swishing water over him to remove the traces of dried blood from his skin, while Eragon washed her body and hair. He even carefully cleaned her hands, removing all traces of blood from her fingernails. "Thank you," Arya murmured at his thoughtfulness.

When Arya was clean, Eragon asked, "Do you want to soak and relax for a while?"

"I do, but the others are waiting for us."

"They told us to take our time," he reminded her. "You just gave birth, Arya. Relax a few minutes, my love."

"Very well," she relented, laying her head against the edge of the basin.

Eragon's hands had come mostly clean in his efforts of helping Arya, so he found a mirror and began grooming his beard while he waited his turn. Upon further examination of his visage, he realized that his hair had grown quite shaggy. He hadn't given it much thought in the weeks they had spent preparing for their trip and during their travels so his loosely curled hair was quite unkempt. He gave himself a quick trim using magic. Satisfied his appearance was slightly more presentable, he turned back to Arya.

She was watching him through half-closed eyes. "Looking as handsome as ever, darling. Thank you for keeping a beard for me."

"It's my pleasure, Arya," Eragon replied. "My appearance is of very little consequence to me. Any small way I can increase your happiness is well worth it, and I actually get to be lazier this way, so that makes it even more appealing." He grinned.

Arya smiled in return before informing him, "I think I can feel my milk coming in."

"Really? So soon? Well, that's good news. That placenta worked wonders. It appears they brought our clothing here for us, along with all of the items you packed for your recovery, including the undergarments and cloths. Do you think you'll need them to catch any spotting?"

"Might as well to be safe," Arya replied.

"Are you ready to get out? I can get you something to eat while you relax a little longer."

"That would be nice," she said.

A large selection of food was spread out on the table, left for them after breakfast, as Hanin had promised. Eragon returned with a variety for her to choose from, and Arya selected juicy fruits but didn't eat them until she had first drained two large glasses of water.

"That's better!" she exclaimed when done. "I was so thirsty, but I'm not overly hungry, probably because of my unusual meal earlier."

Eragon ate abundantly, hoping to fill the gaping, bottomless hole of his stomach. When he was finished, Arya announced, "I can get out now. Will you help me? I still haven't stood on my legs. I'm sure I can, but I want to be steady with the baby in my arms."

Eragon took her free hand, pulling her up as she stood. Arya supported her weight with no difficulty, but he kept hold of her hand as she stepped out, murmuring the spell to wring her hair out so the water would fall into the washbasin. Then Eragon wrapped her in a towel and directed her to the sofa so she could sit while she waited for him.

"Let me quickly wash up before I help you dress so I don't get any of this dried mess on you now that you're clean," Eragon said.

He did just that, swiftly removing the layers of blood and fluid covering him and also washing his newly trimmed hair and beard. He was done in minutes and stepped out of the water, Arya observing affectionately the whole while. He looked at her questioningly as he dried himself off.

"You're beautiful, Eragon," she explained. "I love watching you."

"Anything to bring you pleasure," Eragon repeated, only toweling his hair dry since Arya liked how it looked when wet. To prolong her enjoyment, he found a brush for cleaning his mouth and put it to good use, standing again in front of the mirror. When he was done, he dressed in the clean clothes laid out for him, noticing her look of regret as he covered his body.

"I'll remove them again soon enough, I'm sure," Eragon comforted, grinning as he pulled on some clean socks and boots. "I've never understood why you like seeing my hairy body naked, but I'm grateful nonetheless, if it makes you attracted to me. See what a beautiful gift that attraction has brought us?" He sat by her to gaze down at Brom, who was suckling away doggedly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"He will soon get something for his efforts," Arya remarked. "I can feel the most unusual tingling flush in my breasts."

"Mouthful of milk coming right up," Eragon teased, thinking back to a conversation they'd had months earlier.

Arya smiled, raising a hand to run it through his clean, trimmed beard. "I like it best like this," she murmured.

Eragon offered, "Shall I help you get dressed?"

"Yes, thank you," Arya accepted. With help from her on how to arrange the cloths, Eragon managed to help her into the undergarments. The pants laid out were one of the many pairs she had modified to fit her growing womb, and they were now much too large. Though she was still not as slender as before her pregnancy, she had to use magic to make the leggings fit her. Someone had unpacked the top Arya had prepared for herself, which was an open-fronted shirt that would cover her back and arms but zip up from the bottom so she could keep Brom next to her bare skin above the closure. He then helped her push her feet into some clean socks and her knee-high, leather riding boots.

At that moment, before her open breast was covered, she made a soft sound of surprise and looked down at it. Eragon followed her gaze and noticed a drop of thick, yellowish, creamy-looking milk slowly emerge from her nipple. "There it is," he matter-of-factly observed.

"Would you like to try?" Arya invited, smiling.

"Certainly," Eragon said, using one finger to catch the drop and put it on his tongue. "Mmm. Tasty. But hardly enough to get a really good idea."

"For that you might have to wait several more days," Arya said in amusement. "You should have used your mouth," she added with a teasing pout.

"Would that really have been wise, Arya?" he asked. "There are a dozen people waiting out there for us, some with remarkably keen ears. You know as well as I where such a move would have led us."

"True," Arya agreed. "Shall we go, then?"

"First let me brush your hair," Eragon said. "It seems appropriate. I did the morning after we first made love. Now it's the first morning after we had our child, the fruits of our love. We've come full circle." He grabbed the brush that was laying out and began.

Eragon was sure the women had attended to the details. He knew he wouldn't have thought of all the items at their disposal. He finished the job quickly, which was all it took. Arya's hair was so full and lustrous that it required very little effort to look magnificent. He leaned down, pushing his nose into it so she would feel it at the back of her neck. He inhaled deeply, loving the familiar smell more than ever. "All done," he announced. "Shall I continue to carry you or would you like to walk a moment?"

"I'd like to walk. It will help me begin to regain my normal strength. But I want to quickly clean my mouth, as you did." Once she had, she asked, "How do I look? Like I just had a baby?"

Arya stood tall and straight, already looking slender, though her form was still more curved after her recent pregnancy. She looked noble and strong in the clothing that was so similar to what she always wore, though it revealed more of her neck and upper chest, which Eragon found appealing. Her midnight black hair shone as if stars glistened above it, and her fair skin was flushed with a healthy pink glow. Her emerald eyes shimmered with joy, love, and contentment. And her delicate lips were rosy from the simple activity of brushing her teeth.

Eragon wasn't sure what emotions his face revealed, but it must have been some combination of adoration and longing. "If not for the perfect, tiny newborn in your arms, no one would ever suspect that one as lovely as you had given birth less than twenty-four hours ago. You're ravishing, my love. Truly, Arya. You have never looked more radiant or gorgeous. Motherhood becomes you, Life-Bringer." He smiled at her, closing the gap between them so he could put his arms around her and bestow a worshipful kiss on her flawless mouth.

"I love you," Eragon whispered when he pulled back. "I love you, Arya." Tears came to his eyes. "I love you so much, my beautiful wife. Thank you for giving me a son and making me a father. Did I mention how much I love you? Words cannot even begin to express how ardently I adore you." He stopped, realizing how redundant he was being, but she didn't seem to mind.

Arya smiled tenderly, her eyes full of the same inexpressible emotions, then she reached for his hand and they walked outside together.


	38. Mystery Solved

38\. Mystery Solved

Eragon and Arya were relieved to see that everyone wasn't simply sitting around in boredom, waiting for them to emerge. Elva was kneeling in a sunny patch not far off, surrounded by bunnies, squirrels, and birds. They lay in her lap and perched on her shoulders, and she stroked some with each hand, looking peacefully happy.

Two of the couples were lounging in their favorite position of relaxation—the male behind with his hands resting on the swollen belly of the female leaning into his chest. Willow's eyes were closed as she listened to Varhog's quiet singing. Murtagh idly played with Nasuada's hair where it was draped over the front her body, and she laughed just then at something he said. Hanin and Maehrí were fencing in a nearby clearing, though with their grace, they could have been dancing. Ellei-an and Gelarik were sitting in a loose circle with Angela, conversing quietly. Solembum was licking his paws near Angela, and he swatted as a bumble bee buzzed by his ear.

When they saw Eragon and Arya exit the cottage, everyone stood and made their way to where the latter group was gathered—four logs that had been pulled together to form a rough square.

Murtagh and Nasuada were closest to Eragon and Arya, and upon closer examination of his brother and sister-in-law, Murtagh observed, "The god and goddess condescend to join the mere immortals who await them." He chuckled. "You two look amazing. And I'm not teasing, as you might suspect. It's astonishing what true love can do to improve one's looks, and I'm speaking only of my brother, dear sister. _You_ have always been exquisitely beautiful, which beauty is only enhanced now that you are a mother. Your radiance puts Ellei-an and Gelarik to shame."

Eragon grinned. "I don't know that I'd go that far, but thank you. I always have cleaned up well, haven't I?" He laughed with Murtagh. "Maybe you have some hope yet, Murtagh. In just a few more months you'll become a father, and you might be handsome for the first time in your life." He ducked as Murtagh playfully swung a fist toward him.

"You had best be careful, Shadeslayer," Nasuada formally warned, though her dark eyes sparkled teasingly. "One does not insult the husband of the high queen and escape unpunished. That's twice today that someone has questioned my husband's charming good looks, and I won't stand for it. _He_ is the only male here with eyes the color of the deepest, clearest lake. Yellow and brown don't even come close."

"Does it count if one of the two was your charming husband himself?" Murtagh joked. "I'm glad you find me comely, my dear. That's all that really matters. And I'm sure becoming a mother will only vault your stunning beauty to rival that of divinity, as it has Arya's here."

They had reached the logs whereon Angela and her parents waited, so Eragon and Arya sat across from them, and Elva quickly took a seat next to Arya so she would have a clear view of the baby for the entire duration of whatever was about to happen. Solembum jumped up next to her, prepared to enjoy the same petting he had seen the bunnies receiving. As Elva automatically began stroking him, a soft purr kindled in his chest.

Willow and Varhog claimed the log to the left of Eragon and Arya, and the final two couples filled the fourth, Maehrí snuggling onto Hanin's lap so there would be room for Murtagh and Nasuada to sit side by side.

When everyone was comfortable, Ellei-an spoke, "We have waited countless years for this time, and they seemed so much longer because of the sacrifice of being away from our only child. Let us not delay in relating the events that transpired those many centuries ago."

Gelarik took over, "Ellei-an and I returned here to her meadow from my mother's cottage when we knew the time for our baby's birth had arrived. We were overjoyed by the miracle of Ellei-an's pregnancy and the gift that we would be parents. The birth was beautiful and peaceful. Our daughter was healthy and perfect. We anticipated the chance to be a family more than anything else we had ever looked forward to. It was something we never expected to experience, given the infertility of the elves, though it was less pronounced then before the fall of the Dragon Riders than it is now."

Ellei-an continued, "After several blissful hours of enjoying our new daughter, an unexpected and miraculous thing happened. Even as you all experienced yesterday, a heavenly being appeared to us. He was perfectly, gloriously beautiful, and his face shown with the most radiant, divine love you could imagine. He told us the heavens rejoiced over our pure love and that its pureness and devotion had led to the conception of our child. For such a thing to occur for an elf woman, especially one with a husband of a different race, the love she feels and receives must be purely selfless, unconditional love. And that is the kind of love Gelarik had patiently shown me for so many decades." She glanced toward her loyal husband, who was clasping her hand.

Gelarik said, "The man told us we had been chosen to be stewards over the two races we represent, the dwarves and elves. We are not deity, though we are on the path leading to that, and this was an opportunity to progress in that journey. We had a choice to accept this stewardship or not. If we did, we were given the additional choice to either stay on in this earthly existence and assume our roles as stewards for as long as my mortality would allow, so we could enjoy the family life with our new daughter that we had so dearly desired. The other choice was to leave her behind and move on to the eternal realm where we could fulfill the calling from the heavens, uninterrupted by my death and the almost indefinite span of time before Ellei-an and I would be reunited."

"At first we could not understand why we would ever choose to leave behind our precious baby," Ellei-an went on. "But the being continued to explain. He told us of certain dark events that would unfold in the land several centuries in the future. If we accepted the role as stewards, we would have a unique opportunity to influence the outcome of those events. If we stayed on the earth, our daughter's life would be much different. She would remain isolated in the woods and enjoy my love and companionship for many centuries, for we learned that she had inherited my immortality. Such a situation would have prevented her from realizing her full potential because she would have been so withdrawn from civilization."

Gelarik took over again. "The disadvantage to this scenario was that my mortality would force me to soon leave the side of my beloved wife and daughter. The power of our stewardship would only flow from our unity and great love. We needed to remain together. The being told us that Angela would have a unique role to play in thwarting the evil that would threaten to engulf the land, and that as stewards over the elves and dwarves we would have the opportunity to oversee her efforts from above. But she would not be able to fulfill her calling unless we could find it in our hearts to sacrifice for a time the opportunity to be a family. If we left her, we knew my mother—her elderly grandmother—would see to it that she had a responsible guardian. In order to find such a person, she would need to rejoin the other peoples of the land, which would give Angela the interaction she needed to realize her potential."

Ellei-an resumed, "Our hearts were heavy and yet strangely resolute as we made the difficult decision to leave behind our tiny daughter, who seemed so helpless. For our willing sacrifice, which was further evidence of our pure and selfless love, the being provided us with several blessings. The first was a solution to the oft-visited problem of my immortality and my husband's mortality. We knew death would one day part us and it filled us with quiet grief. The being gave us the gift of shared immortality, one he was worthy to give since he had overcome death through an infinitely greater sacrifice than the one we were choosing to make. Our daughter was provided with a lifetime companion and assistant, even Solembum, who came to her side before we left and was with Angela when her grandmother found her. And he has faithfully fulfilled his mission to remain with her ever since."

Gelarik said, "He anointed me with power to act in his name, since I had proven my worthiness through my devotion and love for Ellei-an. This power runs deeper than the magic of this land, for it extends to every reach of the universe and was responsible for its very creation. We were allowed to ascend to the heavens and take up our watchful vigil. We oversaw the two races under our care, gradually influencing peace between the tribes of my people and a satisfactory though distant alliance between our two races. Our story was so secluded and secret that our peoples did not know they could call on us and that through us, their prayers would reach the heavens. But we nonetheless had the ability to influence events on the land below in such a way as to fulfill our role as stewards, and our hearts and thoughts were never far from Angela."

"For many centuries, time in Alagaёsia passed relatively peacefully, and Angela was able to enjoy the experience of a family of her own," Ellei-an continued. "Her heartbreak and loss when her family passed on weighed heavily on our souls, but they were necessary prerequisites for her to progress toward the accomplishment of her purpose. She needed to know the power of love before being prepared to assist in overcoming the evil that would soon grip the land. And those malevolent events that had been foretold inevitably began. For many decades, they unfolded and worsened, and those who would play the central role in triumphing over them were still being prepared. As you all clearly know, for we have lived through them and come forth victoriously, the very two I mean are Eragon and Arya, ultimately, though countless others helped them along the way, not the least of which were Nasuada and Murtagh. And Angela obviously, as well as Elva." She turned to look at each as she spoke their names. "Each life that touched Eragon and Arya played a part in helping them toward achieving their destiny of destroying Galbatorix and Shruikan."

Gelarik said, "It was not by coincidence that Eragon first met Angela, nor that she foretold for him a future that would include an epic romance with one of noble birth. That 'one' was Arya, and Arya had already been playing an essential role in the alliance between our two races as elven ambassador to the Varden. Eragon rescued her from the clutches of Durza, which, it seemed, was when their relationship first began. But it started before that when she sent him Saphira's egg in the Spine. The Eldunarí influenced that fateful twist as the unexpected beginning of your relationship. Your destinies have always been intertwined, Shadeslayers. You have come to recognize this truth in the time since you were reunited, but long before your earthly existences began, you were called forth and foreordained to fulfill the responsibilities of which you have so nobly acquitted yourselves while here. You were powerful as individuals but unstoppable when unified."

Ellei-an explained, "And as you have also recognized on a number of occasions, Angela played a central role in bringing you together and keeping you alive. Her motive as she understood it was to determine whether your relationship would ever lead to the type of love that might make you parents. In her necessary ignorance she feared that some terrible fate awaited you, since she did not understand what actually occurred at the time of her birth. However, the true reason she acted as she did was under our influence. We knew how essential it was that you and Arya fight the forces of opposition together. Alone, Eragon, you would have failed."

She continued, "That you truly did fall in love and marry was not a necessary part of the plan to throw down Galbatorix. It is simply a beautiful continuation of a powerful companionship, and that it has led to the creation of a precious new life, though Arya is an elf, is proof of your mutual and undying love and loyalty. Such love is of the quality that causes the heavens to rejoice and rain down their blessings to the earth below. Part of our purpose in coming yesterday was to explain the mystery that has plagued Angela her many long years of existence. And so we have. We were also given permission to restore Brom's life, if you asked and had faith sufficient for the miracle to be performed, which we likewise have accomplished. Our other responsibility is to now extend to you a gift—a blessing, if you will—which we have been given the right to grant according to the will and approbation of Him whom we serve and reverence as the Father of our spirits. These blessings are to reward you for your selfless sacrifices and heroic service in behalf of the whole land and for coming together in the pureness of your love. Eragon and Arya, you each may ask anything you wish, and by the power Gelarik mentioned, it will be made so." She stopped and waited.

When Gelarik did not continue on as he had at all of her previous pauses, Eragon realized he was now expected to speak, but his head was swimming with the implications of the explanation he had just heard. A quick glance around told him all of the others had been affected in a similar manner. He stammered then fell silent, still not sure what he should say and even less certain what blessing he might ask. He looked over at Arya, whose face revealed a similar display of confusion and uncertainty.

He finally managed to say, "I'm allowed to ask for anything I wish and it will be given to me?"

"Yes," Gelarik said.

"I already have everything I want," Eragon said. "I have Arya. You've returned our son to us. May I have a moment to think about this?"

"Certainly," Ellei-an said. "And remember, this will not be forced upon you. Coercion is directly contrary to the foundation of this world and so many others. If you cannot think of a gift you wish to receive, there will be no penalty."

Eragon sat in thoughtful silence. He first looked at Arya and saw she was doing the same, her gaze trained on Brom, who was peacefully sleeping in her arms. When he saw he would not get the chance to meet her eyes, Eragon looked about himself, starting at his left where Willow and Varhog sat and letting his eyes sweep around the square. Angela, Ellei-an, and Gelarik sat across from him. Angela had calm tears streaming down her cheeks as she held her mother's other hand, but her face was full of peace and understanding. Her noble parents looked much the same, though their faces were glorified and perfected.

Eragon's eyes continued around to Hanin and Maehrí, sitting together in tender affection. Next to them sat Nasuada, her eyes shimmering with emotion. His eyes fell lastly upon his brother Murtagh, the only in the group who was his true brother by birth. Murtagh's eyes shone with a strange desperation as he met Eragon's gaze, and Eragon understood the nonverbal message, remembering a promise he had once made to his brother.

Eragon then said, "I know what I would ask. I wish for all of the Riders and their chosen spouses to have the same opportunity you and Ellei-an were given. If they share the pure love and devotion that has often been mentioned today, I ask for them to have the chance to overcome death, though one might be immortal and the other mortal. If this can be, it's what I desire."

Before Gelarik or Ellei-an responded, Arya also spoke up, "My request is related. I desire that any children born of the union of two Riders might have the same chance given them to remain on in life with the parents who love them, even if they didn't inherit their parent's immortality."

Ellei-an and Gelarik nodded at the same time, and Gelarik said, "These are worthy requests and clearly show your selfless, thoughtful regard for those nearest to your hearts. The sure knowledge that you would not abuse this privilege is the reason it was extended to you. In the last many millennia, this opportunity was given to only one other couple besides ourselves, our sister and brother, Rahna and Bolvek. Some of you are familiar with their story.

"These blessings will surely be extended, even as promised. But we must explain certain conditions. Mankind cannot be forced against his will. As Ellei-an said, to force the choice of any being is in direct opposition to the laws on which this world and others like unto it have been built. We saw this sad truth manifest in the tyranny of Galbatorix. It is always the deep inclination of free men to oppose such measures, for their agency is a hard-won right." His voice rang with a sudden authority, "From henceforth—starting now with Murtagh and Nasuada, for you are the first couple this applies to—if any Rider takes a spouse who is mortal and their love is pure and enduring, they will have the choice to endure together in this earthly existence for endless years, if that is what they mutually desire. Or they can choose to pass together into the next life at any time after the fulfillment of their natural earthly lifespan. There they will continue to enjoy the tender relationship of their earthly covenant as perfected, immortal, and eternal beings. The choice to stay or move on will be theirs, but they can now rely on the certain truth that death will not part them nor end their love."

Nasuada gasped in disbelief, putting her hands over her mouth while Murtagh froze in stunned shock. When Nasuada's tears started flowing and she leaned into him, Murtagh melted from his rigid position and wrapped his arms tightly around her, as if it were the very first time he ever had. With deepest gratitude Nasuada breathed, "Thank you, Eragon. Thank you, Gelarik. This is the very thing we always most wished for and most despaired would never be." Murtagh nodded his fervent agreement, too overcome by emotion for words.

Gelarik then continued with the same irrefutable tone of authority in his voice, "And from this time forward, all children born of the union of two Dragon Riders will have the same choice to remain on this earth in relative immortality of the same nature as their parents, or the ability to pass on to the next existence after their natural span of life has expired. The blessing will extend to their chosen mates if the relationship is based on true and loyal love, but it will not extend to the next generation. If immortality is not inherited by race, as it is with the elves, the grandchildren of Riders will live the normal span of their lives and pass on to the next existence. The blessing will not be extended indefinitely. As you can imagine, soon thousands of people would live as immortals, and such an outcome would throw off the natural balance of the land.

"You must understand, noble Dragon Riders, that the structure of family is not one that simply endures in this earthly existence. It is the very same unit upon which heavenly society is organized. Yes, our lives continue on after we pass through the veil of death. And they continue on with the ones we love most in mortality, even our families. When families are created under the covenant of love and loyalty, they are lasting and eternal. Though your grandchildren might pass away in the experience of mortal death, they will not be lost to an unknown void but will simply be taking the necessary next step in their eternal progression. Death is not the devastation you now view it as but an essential part of our eternal souls' advancement. You and your children all now have the choice to remain in this land as immortals, to pass on together when your natural lifespans would have normally required it, or to do so at any time thereafter. You will not have the ability to pass at will between the two realms, however, so make your choice carefully because it cannot be reversed. But above all, do not fear death. If you have lived lives of discipline and virtue, as all of you have, your reward will be eternal life with the ones you love, which is the most exalted gift of our Father. Does anyone have any questions?"

Willow tentatively raised a hand, not sure if she could simply speak out. Ellei-an smiled at her as an indication she should continue. "Does that mean my family—my father, mother, and brother—are all alive somewhere in some form?" Everyone thought about loved ones they had lost to death and realized they all wished to know the answer. Eragon's father and mother, uncle and aunt. Arya's father and mother. Nasuada's father and mother. They all had dear ones who had passed away.

Ellei-an said, "Yes, Willow. That is what it means. Your family loves you so much and is so proud of who you have become, though losing them was such a grave trial for one so young. All of the loved ones all of you have lost continue on in the spirit realm. Our souls are eternal. These bodies we obtain when we are born on earth are made of the earth and will one day return to it, but the spirits within that give us life can never die. Though our mortal bodies and eternal spirits must inevitably be separated for a time in the process of death, they are destined to be reunited in a glorious resurrection that ensures such a separation will never occur again. Gelarik and I have undergone such a transformation, which is why our bodies appear unblemished and perfected.

"The blessing of immortality is extended to all, whether good or evil. But the blessing of eternal life with one's family is only given to those who have proven themselves worthy of it by entering into a covenant relationship of love and loyalty and by living lives of exemplary righteousness, as the Riders here have. The magic of this land creates unique exclusions to the rules of other worlds, and certain beings like elves and Dragon Riders might remain on in relative immortality, but even they will one day continue on in their progression, and their bodies will attain the same irrevocable binding of spirit to flesh.

"Thanks to the blessings just extended to your brotherhood at Eragon's request, you all now have the choice to accept that immortality as you have always understood it or to pass on and continue your eternal progression in the world to come. If there ever comes a time when you feel your purpose on this earth is complete, you may make the choice to leave it, and at that time your bodies and spirits will be permanently sealed together." She paused to allow more questions.

With her pure, childlike faith, Willow seemed to be following everything better than the others. She asked, "Will the rules apply to our dragons? Will they too be allowed to pass on with us into the next realm? Do other living creatures—animals and insects—also have spirits?"

Gelarik laughed in his kind, fatherly way and said, "Very insightful questions, Willow. And I'm not surprised _you_ asked them. _Your_ life has been observed with much interest by the eternal beings set as stewards over this world. The rules will apply to your dragons. The eternal bond that connects you with them right now will remain true after the passing from this realm to the next. The choice can be theirs, however. They can remain behind if they want, but such a thing is not likely, as you all well know. And yes, creatures with a simpler understanding of life also have eternal spirits within their bodies and also have the chance to progress onward and continue improving within their appointed spheres. There are differing levels of intelligence, but each strives most diligently to attain the full measure of its creation, which you all have learned from your meditations in nature."

"So if the Eldunarí of dragons who had Riders chose to pass on now, they would not enter a void but would once again be reunited with their Riders and their bodies?" Willow cried.

"That is correct, Willow," Gelarik said.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Willow exclaimed. "They feel such sadness and longing for their dearest friends and for the flesh that allowed them to experience life. But what if they all chose to leave? That would leave those of us here behind in quite the dilemma! We rely so much on their wisdom to learn our calling."

"It would be their choice, now that they know they can make it," Gelarik said. "Many of the oldest are not concerned with the cares of the flesh. They have so long been without their Riders and have become so accustomed to their current existence, they would likely chose to remain for the good of the Riders in the land. But the wisdom of their collective consciousness is woven deeply into the very natures of your living dragons. And contact with the heavenly realm is easier to achieve than most people realize, as you have learned, Willow. Prayer is a simple matter but most powerful. An honest prayer is always heard in the heavens. And though not all are answered as those spoken yesterday, if they are offered in faith and sincerity for a need that is true and just, then they are answered in their appointed time, according to the will and wisdom of Him whose right it is to answer them. An unanswered prayer is not a sign no one heard, but only that what was asked for might have been in direct opposition to His will or in direct violation of the agency of another. It also happens that the desired answer is simply withheld for a time to try the faith and patience of the one who prayed. I hope you all will learn to trust the power of faith and prayer. There are not many forces greater, though you all have ability with the magical powers that exist in this world."

When it appeared no one had further questions, Ellei-an spoke once again. "Noble Riders, it has been our honor to come stay with you for a time and to extend to you these blessings and this knowledge. The time for our return is nigh at hand. We have one last gift to offer, and then we will depart."

Angela's eyes once again filled with tears at her mother's words, but Ellei-an turned to her, removing her hand from her husband's so she could grasp Angela's in both of her own. "Daughter, you have fulfilled your calling most admirably and have succeeded in helping Eragon and Arya come together to overthrow the terrible evil that threatened this land. You continued on in your guidance and led them to this point, so this further light and knowledge could enrich them and all their fellow Riders. We offer you now the same gift, if you see fit to accept it. You may come with us into the eternal realm and be reunited with your husband, children, and descendants who have passed on."

After Ellei-an's final words, a pillar of light fell from the sky and another being descended from the heavens. He was also a dwarf, as Gelarik, but it was clear that he was not yet perfected, for his form was insubstantial. He was a spirit, with the form of a body but without possession of one.

Angela recognized him with a gasp of shock. "Thorv?" she cried, springing up and hustling over to him. There was no doubt this was her earthly husband. She couldn't take his hands because of his intangible form, but he reached out for her lovingly.

With a merry twinkle in his eyes Thorv said, "Aye, mine sweet. I have long awaited the time when we could be reunited. If you chose to come now, I will receive my body once more, and mine and yours will be perfected together. Then we can at last progress onward, never to be parted again."

"Can such a miraculous thing be?" Angela breathed in wonder. "I accept, mother. I accept this gift with deepest humility and gratitude. I thought I was doomed to remain a lonely immortal, wandering aimlessly with no apparent purpose. I can see now that my purpose in this life has been fulfilled. What must I do to accept?"

"That is all, daughter," Gelarik said.

A muted light, growing every second in intensity and brightness, blossomed forth from the area of Angela's heart and gradually encompassed her whole body. The same thing happened to Thorv, though the light started in the earth under his feet. It appeared as if his body was being encased with physical matter in exactly the appearance his spirit had, completing the entirety of his soul—body and spirit—as the light swallowed him. Within less than a minute the two had been transformed and appeared now as Ellei-an and Gelarik, perfected and unblemished, with a brilliant light emanating from their beings. Thorv made a sound of profound relief as he felt his tangible body with his hands.

Angela reached out hesitantly toward her husband, who extended his hands, and they touched. She fell into his arms, weeping for joy at being reunited after over five hundred years of separation.

She remained as she was for some time. Before long however, she determined to say her goodbyes, feeling no attachment for those she was leaving behind that came near to equaling her love for her companion. She stepped away from Thorv with a quick, "Be right back," then turned to the group of Riders. "Well, be quick about it," she demanded in exasperation. "I need to at least say farewell, don't I?"

She bustled over to Murtagh and Nasuada, giving them each an affectionate embrace and doing the same with Hanin and Maehrí. Moving past her parents, she stopped in front of Varhog and Willow, who towered over her as they stood. "You should have remained sitting," Angela griped with a jovial grin, hugging around their waists and patting Willow's belly. "Thank you for all the laughs, young lady. I always secretly enjoyed your open discussions of marital love, though I couldn't very well let on, now could I?" She craned her neck to look up at Varhog. "Take care of her, young ram. You would not like to endure five centuries without her, as I did." Varhog nodded solemnly, giving Angela's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Angela moved over to Eragon and Arya, her cheerful mood dimming as she took more time with her old friends. "Shadeslayers, I never knew the real role I played in your love story until today, but I'm grateful I could. Your love is beautiful and pure, as is your precious son. Thank you for serving alongside me and helping me fulfill my mission, so I could be found worthy to continue on with the one _I_ love. I'll miss you, but I suppose I will glance down every now and again and see what you two are up to." She tittered brightly, giving Eragon a tight and lasting embrace.

"I'll miss you too, Angela," Eragon said. "I learned the truth of some of your mysteries more recently, but I'll always regret not hearing the story of how you came to eat the moon. Keep it good company up there in the heavens."

"Well, I can't give away _all_ of my secrets, now can I?" Angela teased, twittering again as Eragon chuckled.

With more seriousness he then added, "Thank you, wise one. You changed the course of my life for the better and equipped me in so many ways to fulfill my destiny. You taught me to hope for a chance at love with Arya, and that hope carried me through the despair until at last it was realized. I'll be forever grateful. Eternally. And I now understand how true that expression really is." He embraced Angela once more, then she moved on to Arya.

"Life-Bringer, it is an honor to know one such as you," Angela began. "One who, as an elf like my mother, is rare enough to find such happiness and peace with the man she loves as to conceive a child with him. Well, let me have at least one look at him before I go." She stretched up onto her toes, steadying herself against Arya's arm as she peeked at Brom's face.

For the first time since just after his life was restored, the baby opened his bright little eyes and turned his face toward Angela, as if he could sense that he was in the presence of a wise and ancient being. "Oh hello, little one!" Angela greeted in delight. "The honor of seeing your sweet eyes is not lost on me. Be strong, Brom. Be courageous. And follow the examples of your two noble parents. They will lead you down the right path, toward happiness and love, for they have trodden it themselves and endured most nobly." She kissed his soft cheek then pulled on Arya's arm to indicate that she wanted Arya to bend over so she could do the same. After bestowing her kiss on Arya's cheek, Angela gave her a hug.

Arya whispered into Angela's dark curls, "Thank you, Angela. Thank you for your help, for saving my own and Eragon's life, and for leading us here. Had we not had Brom in your mother's meadow, we might have lost him. I love you, wise one. Thank you." Angela's eyes shimmered with tears as she moved on to Elva.

Elva's face was transfixed with the heavenly love of the moment as she gazed at Angela. "I never knew your secrets nor your pain, wise one," she whispered. "How you kept them hidden from me, I'll never know, but I can see that such a depth of pain is needed in order to feel the depth of love you feel. Without the one, you cannot hope to appreciate the other for the divine gift it is. Perhaps all of the pain and sorrowing I have endured will lead me to such a place in my future. Thank you, Angela, for helping me, for caring for me, for watching over me when I needed guidance. I'll remember you." They wrapped their arms around one another and squeezed tightly. Angela held on longer than seemed needful, and when she finally stepped away, it became obvious why.

The last in line for her rushed farewells was Solembum, her faithful companion and friend during all her years of love, life, and loneliness. He had assumed his human boy form and silently stood in front of Angela. "Oh, Solembum!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Leaving you now will be like losing Thorv all over again. You've helped me endure this endless existence by getting me out of innumerable tight spots, watching my back, keeping me sane—if I can go so far as to say that," she laughed weakly, "giving me advice, putting up with my quirks. I'll miss you so much, my old friend. Would you come with me, if you could?"

The boy nodded gravely, nearer to tears than he ever had been in his long, long life. "I would."

Angela turned to her mother and father. "Is that allowed? May Solembum come with us?"

"He may," Gelarik answered. "His bond to you is as irrevocable as that of a dragon to its Rider. If that is his choice, it will be even as you say."

Angela cried in relief and hugged Solembum. He too looked relieved, not only that he would accompany Angela, but that he now had no reason to cry. He blinked, sweeping his eyes around to all in the group. "Goodbye, then," he said without emotion, resuming his cat form and remaining on all fours to indicate his readiness to follow Angela over to Thorv.

Angela started toward Thorv then looked at Solembum, who must have mentally spoken to her. "Of course!" she cried. "I nearly forgot!" She opened a pouch at her waist and dug around for a few moments. When she withdrew her hand, she held the diamond-studded belt of Beloth the Wise. "I found this about five years ago while rummaging in the ruins of the cathedral at Dras-Leona," she explained to Eragon. "It appears to have some sort of enchantment that makes it impossible to discover through magical means. Anyway, at the time I had no plans to visit you. Once I did go to the Isle and you soon shared with me your news that you were expecting, I decided to keep it until your baby was born. Every day for the past five years I have stored energy in these diamonds. I kept it because I thought it might be useful in the event that we faced some dire threat when your baby was born. How happy I am that wasn't the case! But I have no use for it so I'll return it to you and let you do with it what you will."

Eragon accepted the belt, and Angela made her way to her husband, hugging him once more and taking his hand as she turned expectantly toward her parents. "It appears we are ready," she announced.

"Fare thee well, Riders, Nasuada, and Elva," Ellei-an intoned. "We have enjoyed this time. You know how to reach us." She smiled serenely, her glorious beauty shining brighter than the afternoon sun as a pillar of light opened above them. Then the two couples and the werecat ascended into the brightness of the world beyond and were swallowed in the light as it dimmed at their passing.


	39. Gratitude

39\. Gratitude

Once the light disappeared, the day seemed dark, though it should have seemed bright under the midday sun. Each of the Riders and Elva silently looked around at one another for an indefinite length of time.

It didn't surprise anyone that Willow broke the silence. "That was incredible!" she enthused. "Does anyone else feel indescribably humbled to have witnessed that? Such knowledge and truth poured out upon us! I felt so unworthy!" Varhog looked at Willow in his usual adoring way, and she noticed his expression. "What, Yelloweyes? Did _you_ feel worthy, wise sage that you are?" She giggled, and the familiar, warm sound broke the spell for everyone else.

"Eartheyes," he whispered into her hair. "I think you belong with Ellei-an and Gelarik in the heavens. How are the rest of us ever expected to keep up with you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Willow cried. "I belong here with you. You're my mate, whom I adore with a perfect, true, and devoted love. Haven't we just learned that I'm more powerful with you by my side than I ever would be on my own in the heavens? And what a beautiful reassurance that death will never permanently separate us nor any of the rest of you, as we so often feared! We're eternal companions. I've never learned anything that filled me with greater hope and gratitude than that. Don't you agree?" Willow turned her gaze from Varhog, casting her eyes around at the others with the same questioning look.

All of the others nodded, save Murtagh, who jerkily stood and stumbled over to Eragon, where he fell to his knees and hung his head until it rested on Eragon's knees. His voice was halting and broke with emotion. "Brother . . . thank you . . ." He gasped in a shuddering breath. "Thank you, Eragon." Then he fell silent, apparently unable to say any more.

Eragon put his free hand—the one not around Arya's waist—on one of Murtagh's shoulders. "You would have done the same, Murtagh, had our roles been reversed. I'll always be grateful I had the opportunity to make it possible. I already have everything I want, which is more than I'll ever feel myself worthy of. Like Willow, I'm amazed by what we learned, especially that we continue to exist after death. And the blessing extended to touch us all. We now have the choice to pass on together with our spouses from this existence when we feel our purpose has been fulfilled. Has anyone else ever felt like enduring unendingly in this world might eventually lose its appeal?"

Eragon laughed softly, as did the others, before continuing, "Now we know that we have a purpose and progress after death with the one we love the very most. Our children will one day grow and marry. In doing so, they'll begin their own families and their deepest love will necessarily turn to their spouses. But _our_ spouses will remain our family forevermore. It's heavenly. Literally." He turned to look at Arya, seeing her with new eyes as he anticipated the sure knowledge that he would have the opportunity to be with her, quite literally, for all of eternity.

Arya returned his gaze. "Yes, Eragon. Enjoying your love for the rest of eternity hardly seems a long enough span, and by the side of the man I love is the only way I would ever welcome an endless existence."

With some concern Eragon then added, "But Nasuada, how will this opportunity affect you in your leadership position? I didn't give much thought to it at the time, but I'm now considering the potential problems of an immortal ruler for Alagaёsia. To avoid that precise situation is one of the main reasons I declined the throne."

Nasuada answered, "I have no desire to rule Alagaёsia forevermore, Eragon. I thrive on the challenge of being the best leader of which I am capable, but the thought of having that responsibility for the rest of time is exhausting. I would imagine it is the very reason that the elves have no problem with one monarch endlessly maintaining the throne, though the relative immortality of that race would potentially allow for such an outcome. I'm grateful this blessing now available to us leaves the choice in our hands. When I might have normally passed on, Murtagh and Thorn now have the opportunity to follow. Or we can choose to stay with our children for a time, but I anticipate that one of them, if they desire it and are worthy, will eventually succeed me as ruler of Alagaёsia."

"Yes," Murtagh agreed, having returned to his wife's side. "I too am grateful we can choose to move on from this existence. Remaining forever as an immortal has never been enticing. But I am relieved that death will no longer force myself and Nasuada apart, at least not indefinitely. I suppose it still could if one or the other of us passed away before old age normally would have taken us."

Everyone turned to look at Elva, who had her eyes closed and her face upturned with an expression of sublime joy on it, when she whispered, "Did I not say the best was yet to come? However, _that_ exceeded even my expectations. Congratulations yet again, Shadeslayers. I have never felt such generous, unselfish love. It is producing miracles on every hand. How little we truly knew about the real forces that rule this world—faith, enduring, prayer, love—and that they are unrelated to magic. You Riders are onto something. Thank you for letting me be a part of this." She leaned into Arya's side, as if feeling her motherly love and wanting it to extend to her as well.

-:-:-

The Riders remained sitting and quietly discussing the events of the morning until their shared hunger compelled them to break and eat. When they gathered once more, Eragon assumed leadership as he usually did when a group of Riders was involved.

He began by saying, "Well, here we are. All of the Riders who are currently in Alagaёsia are assembled in this meadow. I suppose we ought to determine if our trip will extend even longer, or if it is now time to return to our duties on the Isle. Making the trip from our current location would be the most sensible thing to do. Surely everyone has their own desires. Anyone may speak."

Arya did first. "I, at least—and I suppose that would include you, darling—would like to stay in the meadow for another three weeks, at a minimum, until Brom is the age he would have been if my pregnancy had continued uninterrupted. Anywhere we go from here, people will want to hold him, and I don't want that happening before then. Even a little after would be my preference, but that time could pass while traveling."

"I'm in perfect agreement, my love," Eragon said. "Anyone else?"

"I want to stay with you," Willow said firmly. "And I suppose that means Varhog will too." She turned to her husband, smiling. "Unless you wish to go off on some adventure to enjoy your freedom one last time before being tethered down by the constant demands of having twin babies."

"You know I'd never leave you, Eartheyes," Varhog said. "There's nowhere I would rather be and no responsibility I've ever anticipated more, save being your mate."

"I know," Willow tenderly replied. Then she continued addressing the others, "Varhog and I have already discussed this. If there was a chance we would remain in the meadow after the birth, we decided we wouldn't return to the Isle before our babies are born. If we stay here another three weeks or even longer, I'll be past thirty weeks gestation. It seems that allowing two weeks to travel to the Isle in my current condition isn't generous enough, but even if it was possible, I would arrive there at thirty-two weeks. I want to have the babies at our home in Varhog's village and such a journey from the Isle would take at least a month under ideal conditions. I hardly consider traveling with a female between thirty-two and thirty-six weeks pregnant with twins 'ideal conditions.'"

She laughed before adding, "If we were lucky, we might arrive back to our village when I was thirty-seven weeks pregnant and there's a very real possibility I could go into labor at that point or even worse, before we arrived, with no opportunity to rest or prepare. We would have no time to spend on the Isle before being forced to return here, so it seems the trip would only be an inconvenience and that it would add immeasurably to my discomfort. I admit, the thought of flying for over six weeks straight with my womb even larger than its current size is enough to bring me to tears. I don't think I can do it. I'd rather be at home surrounded by family and as comfortable as I can hope to be at that stage of pregnancy."

"Of course, Willow," Arya agreed. "And you must return to Ellesméra to get your coat from Rhunön. She will surely be finished with it at the end of a month's time, when we might realistically return. We can scry her to inform her of our delayed arrival."

Willow nodded. "From Ellesméra, I think I might prefer to go straight back to our village, whatever any of the rest of you decide to do. I don't want to be flying with these babies inside of me past thirty-five weeks. Do you still think you can be there for my birth, Arya?"

"Willow, I'm forever indebted to you for my son's life," Arya said quietly. "I already would have, but there is no power in heaven or earth that could keep me from being by your side at that time."

"Thank you, sister," Willow whispered, her glistening eyes.

"Before we hurriedly left Carvahall, Katrina begged to be able to meet our baby after it was born," Eragon said. "I'm very reluctant to return to Carvahall. Roran will be busy with his fields anyway, but Katrina mentioned they would be willing to travel to Therinsford to meet us for a brief time. We can scry them from Ellesméra to see if that's still the case. Would you object to that, my love?" Eragon asked.

"No, of course not," Arya replied. "Just as long as it doesn't keep me from fulfilling my promise to Willow."

"Once you leave Du Weldenvarden, you might want to send the male dragons on ahead," Murtagh suggested. "I know Varhog will want to stay in as many towns as possible for Willow's comfort, but the less time our dragons spend that far north, the better."

"I agree," Varhog said. "No matter how often or long I've puzzled over it, I can't make any sense of King Kulkarvek. If he's invincible and hates Dragon Riders so much, why doesn't he simply march out and face us? Grintuk once said he seemed possessed by memories of tragedies so terrible, he was all but paralyzed with grief, but he left the barrows to attack Saphira. I agree with Firesword that we should avoid Carvahall and with Murtagh that we should send Black Thunder and Fírnen on ahead."

Varhog continued, "Since we won't be returning to the Isle, how would you feel about having all of the Riders return for a visit this summer when Grintuk comes for the Choosing Ceremony? I'm worried about Tomath being away from Willow for so long. Not only would he get to see her, but from my village, his home in Daret would be less than a full day's flight, so he would also get to see his real parents and family. We'll stay away from Carvahall, but we can see if the king reacts to having all twelve dragons in Alagaёsia, after the next Urgal Rider is chosen. We would be strongest together, most capable of defeating him, if there's even a way we can."

"If Kulkarvek is a threat to a dragon, is it wise to let Grintuk take Kuldr to Anghelm?" Murtagh asked.

"After the attack last winter," Eragon explained, "Varhog and I briefly spoke with Grintuk's sire, who was compelled to lead the Kull warriors from Anghelm. He assured us that Grintuk would not be in danger, and also that Kulkarvek would be more offended by a decision to cancel or move the Ceremony than he would be upset by the presence of an Urgal Dragon Rider and his dragon in Anghelm. Based on that, we've decided to go forward with the Choosing Ceremony later this summer."

"Yes," Varhog concurred, "and our dragons may pose no threat to Kulkarvek, but he wouldn't be able to keep up with Kuldr if Grintuk needed to quickly fly away. While the king wasn't thrilled with our dragon hatchlings after Grintuk and I became Riders, he wasn't hostile toward us."

"For the time, at least, it seems we have nothing to fear," Eragon said. "After each of the previous two attacks, once the dragons and Riders left Carvahall, the conflict resolved itself. It could also be that the king has repeatedly chosen that location because there are Urgal rams assisting humans. He has referred to them as traitors, and I'm sure that's another source of aggravation for him. I like the sound of Varhog's plan. Willow's babies should be born in early summer, which is also around the time Nasuada will have her child. The Riders on the Isle can come for a visit then. After the egg has hatched for the next Urgal, Grintuk can immediately bring the hatchling and new Rider back with him to wherever the rest of us are and we can discuss what to do from there. It might be that we all decide to return to the Isle at that point. We'll have been in Alagaёsia for nearly a year by then. If Kulkarvek continues this pattern of remaining within the confines of his kingdom when he doesn't feel threatened by us, we'll just have to keep our distance."

"That would be hard for us," Varhog said. "Willow and I want to split our time between the Isle and our home in my village. But we wouldn't intentionally endanger the peoples of Alagaёsia. Time will surely reveal more information to help us decide how we should handle the king."

"I'm sure you're right, Varhog," Eragon agreed. "Well, what do you have to say, Hanin and Maehrí? You would most likely already be back on the Isle if not for the unusual circumstances that brought and keep our party here."

Hanin spoke for them. "Maehrí and I have also discussed this. She wants to see the Isle. We've already been able to see her parents, so we feel—as you said—that leaving from here would be the most logical course of action. If we're needed here, then we'll gladly stay, but if not, we would like to depart for the Isle so we can enjoy some time there. Perhaps we'll return with the rest if they come later this summer. Maehrí would like to be with her mother and father when our baby is born, but that won't happen until this winter. Sílthrim is far from Anghelm, but we also wouldn't want to endanger anyone if the presence of our dragons was a problem. For now at least we're sure of our desire to return to the Isle at once. We'll let the passing of time and any resultant wisdom guide our future decisions."

"Does anyone object to Hanin and Maehrí leaving for the Isle right away?" Eragon asked. No one did, so Eragon continued, "Then that is settled. Murtagh, Nasuada, where do you plan to have your baby?"

Nasuada answered, "Part of me feels like Willow and wants to be in the Urgal village because of what a lovely culture it was. That would also mean I'd likely be there for her birth and she for mine, which would be wonderful. However, another part of me sees the sense of simply having the birth in Ilirea. The kingdom is excited for a royal baby, and the thought of flying on a dragon with a tiny infant is terrifying to me, so that might be what we do. Then I won't have to constantly worry about dropping my baby as we flew back to the palace, if we were to have the baby elsewhere." She smiled apologetically.

"No need to be sorry, Nasuada," Arya said. "I'm sure all of us women have thought more than once about how to safely accomplish that. I'm still trying to understand how Willow will manage with two. She and Varhog will each have to strap one of them to their bodies."

"Something that will no doubt be easier when they're smaller," Willow agreed, adding with a grin, "If they ever _are_ small. I have a feeling that when they're born in a few months, these two will probably be bigger than Brom will be by then, given how perfectly tiny and petite he is. Good thing their father has always given me plenty of opportunity to develop strong arm muscles. I have a feeling they'll gain unprecedented amounts of strength with the constant demands of lugging around two growing cubs." She laughed, and Varhog smiled in affectionate amusement.

"I like the idea of staying in Ilirea for another reason," Murtagh said, "which is to keep another dragon from being too close to the Kulkarvek. I think we'll stay on at the palace whenever we next return. What would you do, Elva?"

"The palace is my home," Elva replied simply. "I'll return with you, but I also wouldn't mind staying in this lovely meadow for a brief time, if you're agreeable, Your _Highness._ " Her tone when using the honorific took on a teasing quality, and Murtagh reached over to tickle her. Elva giggled, squirming away, and Murtagh immediately stopped, giving her a fatherly grin.

"I have no problem with that, dear girl," Murtagh said. "I've always liked you quite a lot, knowing you were directly responsible for saving Nasuada's life on more than one occasion. I'm thankful you continue to use your unique ability to ensure her safety." He turned to his wife. "Have you any objections, my dear?"

"No, husband. I'm quite enjoying the peace of this place, and I can't leave until I have at least one small chance to hold that precious baby. I'm in no hurry, however, Arya," Nasuada assured Arya. "I can imagine feeling the same jealous possessiveness when my baby is born. I remember what Myrin said about them growing so quickly and wanting to enjoy that newborn size as much and long as possible."

"Who is Myrin?" Maehrí curiously asked.

Willow answered, "Varhog's younger sister. The one right under him, that is, because he has four younger sisters and two younger brothers. There are eight children in his family and how many grandchildren now, sweetheart? Is it thirteen? I think that's right. Or maybe fourteen with Bruntog's new son. Oh, Arya, did I tell you that Raygog and Yvenna are also now expecting? We found out right before we left. And it looked like Trayin was seriously thinking about accepting a certain ram as her mate."

With the main details of their upcoming plans settled, their discussion turned to casual conversation, much of which revolved around Willow telling the others about their winter in Varhog's village, how she, Eragon, and Arya learned Urgralish—which information was met with great interest and approval by Nasuada—and all of the other activities that had kept them busy.

When night fell, each couple retired. Eragon and Arya were given Ellei-an's old cottage with unanimous approval. Hanin and Maehrí were perfectly content to sleep under the stars, when they _were_ sleeping. They spent a fair amount of time otherwise occupied, and Maehrí made the most of her opportunity to show Hanin all of the details of the night sky. But they removed themselves far enough from the others that no one noticed their preoccupied activities.

The other two couples also remained outside, using tents and sleeping mats that would have been comfortable enough were it not for the fact that the two females were so pregnant. Their husbands used magic to improve the comfort of their sleeping areas and also to provide a barrier around their tents, in the event that their wives might also have plans for activities unrelated to sleeping.

Elva declined the invitation to stay inside with Eragon and Arya, preferring to stay outdoors with all of the friends she had made among the woodland creatures. And since she could feel the perfect absence of any negative emotion whatsoever, her sleep was deep and content.

-:-:-:-


	40. New Family

40\. New Family

Brom seemed the happiest baby Eragon had ever known as long as he was with Arya. He never made the slightest fuss, which might have been due largely to the fact his mouth was so rarely empty. That night when they lay on the bed to sleep, Arya turned on her side so she could help Brom latch onto her breast. She asked Eragon to lay his arm behind the baby's back so Brom would stay on his side.

Eragon was more than willing to comply, but he struggled to find a position with his arm that would also allow him to comfortably face Arya, so he asked, "May I simply lie close enough to him that his back is against my chest? Then I can curl my arm under my head and touch you with my other hand."

Arya agreed, so they shifted around until all three were comfortable. With his mother's warm breast and torso along his front, and his father's strong, soft-haired chest behind, Brom was as snug as could be, though he was still unclothed.

Eragon asked her about it, and Arya explained, "I'm in no hurry to dress him. I love the silky feel of his skin, and he will stay warmer in direct contact with my skin than with clothing. With you right behind him, I'm even less concerned."

The position was agreeable for another reason. With the insignificant width of Brom between them, Eragon and Arya's faces were only inches apart, which they both appreciated. And though the room was dim, they could still see one another and their baby.

Arya used her free hand to stroke Brom, running her fingers over his downy hair, along his arm, over each tiny finger and toe. "Isn't he perfect?" she whispered.

"Completely so," Eragon agreed, watching each movement of her hand as he likewise stroked Arya's body. "Just like his mother."

Arya smiled at him, momentarily moving her hand to swirl her fingers through his chest hair. "I guess it really isn't a surprise. With a perfect father and mother, how could he be otherwise?"

"You finally agree with me that you're perfect?" Eragon softly teased.

"I only said it _that_ way because I didn't want to sound unoriginal when I insisted his father was perfect too." Arya laughed, her sweet breath washing over him, and Eragon leaned forward to kiss her.

"Do you think Brom will need to relieve himself soon, now that he's getting some milk?" Eragon wondered. "I'm interested to try that method the Urgals use."

"I don't know," Arya admitted.

" _You_ don't know!" Eragon said, acting like he was shocked.

Arya laughed again. "I don't know everything there is to know, darling. Not even when it comes to babies and pregnancy and birth. Magic will make our job easier. When we notice him begin to relieve himself, we can simply channel the flow into the chamber pot or toilet, depending on where we are at the time. Or if we're too late, we can wick the moisture right out of the material and all will be well. What I do hope to see soon is the dark, sticky stool that builds up in his system during the course of his development. Once it passes, it changes to a yellow, mild-smelling stool that's hardly unpleasant. It will be a sure sign he's getting plenty of my milk."

Eragon stroked her breast and commented, "It feels so much larger and harder. Is that all milk?"

"No, especially not at first. Much of the reason behind engorgement is fluid increase to the breasts as they prepare to lactate. It's tender."

"It feels so hot. Is there anything I can do to increase your comfort?"

"Your cool hand feels nice," Arya admitted.

"Well, in that case, I'm not sure how I feel about helping you out," Eragon returned with mock seriousness. "That's a difficult job you require. Oh, very well," he relented with feigned gallantry. "I'll keep my hand here to share its coolness." He chuckled softly when she giggled at his silliness. "Though it won't be cool long with how hot your skin is."

"That's no matter," Arya said. "You can still keep it there."

"Gladly. Though I'd also love to touch Brom. The last time I held him, he was still and lifeless, his perfect little body losing its warmth. That was the worst thing I have ever experienced, Arya. We're so blessed that he is now alive and warm and breathing."

Tears filled her eyes at the reminder of Brom's stillbirth. "I'm so sorry, Eragon," she whispered. "I hadn't even thought about that. How senseless of me. Please, feel your son." She moved her hand away from Brom's body so Eragon could reach down.

Eragon raised himself up over the arm that had been curled under his head so he could see the baby better, moving his other hand away from Arya's body and turning it between them to stroke Brom. He started with his hair, commenting, "He has so much. And it's even softer than yours, like the finest silk." Eragon leaned down to smell his baby. "What a wonderful smell. Do all newborn babies smell so sweet?"

"All I have ever had the privilege of smelling," Arya replied, "especially if they drink their mother's milk."

Eragon slid his fingers down over his son's tiny ear, which was no bigger than his thumb print. "Everything about him is miniature, so perfect and small. I love it." He reached his shoulder. "His skin is also softer than yours. Something I never thought to feel," Eragon admitted. "Is it also covered in a layer of fine hair?"

"Yes. That is thought to be influenced by the mother's hormones," Arya informed him. "It will rub off in the coming weeks."

Eragon used one finger to trace along Brom's tiny arm, which was bent with his hand resting open and relaxed on the breast he was latched onto. "Look at those wee fingers. How precious."

Eragon was falling ever more in love with this tiny creature who was his son. He turned his hand, using the back of his finger to gently rub against Brom's cheek. For the first time he spoke directly to his baby, though Brom seemed to be peacefully sleeping. Without being consciously aware he was doing it, Eragon raised his voice and greeted, "Hello, my little son. It's so nice to feel your warmth and see your chest rising and falling. I'm happier than I'll ever be able to say to get to meet you, Brom. I'm so excited to be your father."

The baby's eyelids fluttered and he pulled away from Arya's breast, turning toward the sound of Eragon's voice and opening his little eyes. He was more used to darkness than the brightness of day, so he opened them wider than he had when looking at Angela, searching for the familiar sound.

"He knows your voice, my darling," Arya whispered. "You so often spoke and sang to him when he was inside. He loves his father."

"And I love him," Eragon replied, tears welling up in his eyes. "I do, my precious boy. I love you so much." He scooted his body back slightly to give Brom more room to turn. Without Eragon's chest propping him in place, Brom rolled gently onto his back, clumsily swatting a hand toward Eragon and succeeding in grasping a fistful of his chest hair. He pulled firmly, and Eragon laughed at the mild smarting. "There's something I have that mother doesn't. You seem to have inherited her fondness for playing with it, though thankfully you're not yet as strong as she. If your mother tried that move, I'd be missing a patch of chest hair." He looked over at Arya as she laughed at his words. "Since he let go of your breast on his own, may I hold him a moment, my love?" he hopefully requested.

"Of course, Eragon. Nothing would give me greater happiness."

Eragon sat up, scooping Brom into his hands and resting them on his upraised knees so he could observe the baby more closely. "Here I am, my boy." He smiled, moving his face close enough to Brom that he thought the baby might see him. "Yes, I have hair here too." Eragon laughed as the baby once again grabbed ahold—this time on his beard—and closed his fingers. "It's a bit shorter, however, so not as easy to grasp. At least I'll always be novel in one regard," he commented to Arya. "I'll never have your appeal, with those beautiful breasts that give him everything he needs to be happy and healthy, but he'll always be able to grab a fistful of hair on his father." He chuckled softly at his baby's uncoordinated movements.

Arya also sat up to observe the precious exchange, and the baby let out a tiny noise, which sounded neither happy nor sad. It was simply a noise, but both of his parents exclaimed delightedly. "He likes you, Eragon," Arya crowed. "See how he's interacting?"

"That's a relief," Eragon said, gently nuzzling the baby's tummy with his beard. The baby squirmed, and Eragon pulled away, laughing again. Then Brom chose that very moment—perhaps inspired by the ticklish feel of his father's beard—to first relieve himself. The liquid hit Eragon's chest, and Eragon only laughed.

"Good job, son," he approved. "I'm honored I was your first receptacle. I hope you now feel better. Mother thought you might soon need to do the other as well. Shall we try?" He gently shifted the baby and held him—as he remembered Tarhvek doing with baby Varhog—over a cloth they had placed on the bed for the very purpose of catching the many various fluids that always seem to abound whenever a new baby is around. Eragon gently spread the baby's legs up and apart from each other, cradling his body along one forearm and grunting softly to cue the baby to release his bowels, and he was delighted when Brom seemed to understand his desire. Not long after assuming the position, the baby tensed his little body and also grunted, successfully producing his first bowel movement, which was indeed composed of a very dark, thick, sticky-looking substance.

"Hooray, baby!" Arya cheered. "Look at you, Eragon. You're a natural. Here, let me wipe him." She did, and the gentle pressure stimulated Brom to push and remove more of the tar-like stool from his body. "Good job!" Arya praised again. To Eragon she said, "I'm so glad we don't have to wipe that off of him. See how thick and sticky it is? Can you imagine that smeared all over his tiny bottom? It would be so irritating for him if we had to remove it." Eragon nodded, holding Brom a moment longer to make sure he was finished.

When it appeared he was, Eragon snuggled the baby next to his chest, which had already dried from the stream of sterile urine that hit it a few minutes earlier. "I can't promise I'll always be able to help you so easily, but I'll try, Brom. I can't feed you like mother, but I'll do everything in my power to help you be happy and comfortable. And when you're older and can move about some, I'll play with you every day. We'll have such fun together, my son."

The baby once again acted like he knew his father was speaking to him. He pounded his small fists on Eragon's broad chest and squeaked again. Eragon chuckled, stroking him with one hand—which swallowed his thin back—and supporting him under his tiny bottom with the other. The baby naturally assumed a curled-up position, which was the one he had been tightly forced into inside his mother's womb.

Arya pressed herself into Eragon's arm, and he leaned back against the pillows, lifting his arm around Arya so she could rest her face next to their baby. Eragon sang Brom the familiar cradle song of Carvahall, and when he was done, Brom had fallen asleep with his face turned up, his perfect little mouth open in relaxation and contentment. Each of his hands was closed around a small fistful of Eragon's chest hair, as if holding himself in place. The baby took in a deep, trembling breath, and his lips pulled in and shivered. Eragon smiled at him in adoration before glancing at Arya, who was looking back at him with the same expression in her eyes.

"Thank you for letting me hold him, Arya. This is more healing for me than I can even begin to say."

"I'm sorry I made it seem like you would need my permission every time," Arya said. "Watching you with him has been one of the most beautiful experiences I have ever had."

"I get to be a father," Eragon said with awe in his voice. "My father never had that opportunity with me. I always thought it would be a powerful feeling, but this is indescribable. I can't believe how much I love him already. He won me even faster than you did, if you can believe it."

"I can," Arya assured. "But I've had the chance to get to know him all these months on a much more intimate level than you."

"That's true," Eragon said. "After providing my sperm, my contribution was non-existent."

"But it wouldn't have been possible without it, so don't act like it was nothing," Arya insisted. "And my continued contentment and enjoyment of your love were invaluable. I think a baby can feel his mother's emotions while he grows inside, and I'm sure the outcome would be much different if he could feel that she was always afraid or lonely or sad, like she might be if his father was absent. And see how getting to know you while inside has paid off? He is as perfectly comfortable with you as with me. It probably also helps that you were the first to hold him."

The expression of perfect happiness on Eragon's face clouded. "Can you imagine if he hadn't made it?" he whispered. "How different this embrace would be? How empty and cold it would feel, though it once brought us such satisfaction?" He closed his eyes but continued, "It was terrifying, Arya. When I first saw his face, it looked so different than this angelic countenance before us. It was scrunched up so tightly, as if he was in great pain, and I realized that might very well be the case, which broke my heart. Then he was so dark, almost black. I knew he was probably nearly gone, if not already. The devastation was crippling. I don't know how I had the presence of mind to notice what I did and carry on."

Tears were streaming out of Arya's eyes, and she weakly said, "We needn't dwell on this, Eragon."

"Perhaps not. But it might be helpful, so it doesn't revisit us at some future point as a fearful, unforeseen reaction. I'm thinking of Willow's strange malady, which was the result of a shattering emotional experience following a powerful physical one. I've never felt such crushing grief as when I knew our son was dead the moment he had been born." His tears were also flowing freely again, but they were different than they had been the night before, somehow cleansing and healing as they washed out of him.

"But seeing your reaction was the worst of it, my love," Eragon went on. "That's what affected me so deeply when we were still in Ellesméra and first learned there was a problem with the cord. It wasn't that the baby was in danger. I still felt ambivalent toward him. I loved him, but it was abstract, not like it is now that I can hold him. My fear was for you, Arya. I knew what it would do to you if the baby died, and I knew—even as you said yesterday—that you would be empty and broken the rest of your life and that I'd never be able to help you find healing or happiness. That was the hardest. When we were holding his lifeless body before he was restored yesterday, I felt so cheated. I thought I had received a promise that such an agonizing outcome wouldn't befall us. My faith abandoned me, and I was silently cursing the heavens for stealing our baby and our joy when we should have been so happy. Willow saved us all from becoming empty, broken, bitter souls. Her faith is so pure and childlike, bless her."

Arya nodded mutely, trying to find words through the tangle of her emotions. "I couldn't even think to feel angry yet," she confessed pitifully. "I was so enveloped in unfulfilled, desperate longing. I had waited so long, so many decades, for the rare possibility I might get to be a mother, and I had my hopeful wish granted so soon after we were married. But to then have it ripped away? To have to try to experience in the few moments given us what it would have felt like to be a mother? It was too much. If we'd had to lay his tiny, lifeless body into a hole in the cold, hard ground, I think I would have asked you to send me after him, just so I wouldn't have had to feel the debilitating, crushing grief of losing him. How does anyone do it, Eragon? So many countless couples have lost babies and children. How do they continue onward? Does life really go on after such a loss? It seems like it would be so meaningless and empty."

Eragon nodded. "I agree. That's exactly how I felt. Maybe some believe differently about death than we did when we thought we just pass into some nameless void. Those who reverence deity might believe death isn't the end, that existence isn't extinguished with our last breath, and that there's a chance they'll see that precious little one again. That's the only way I can imagine someone enduring such a difficult trial without going mad. Indeed, if we hadn't gotten him back, at least learning that much from our time with Ellei-an and Gelarik might have been enough to give me hope to continue onward, with the promise we might see Brom again. That such an existence—enjoying eternity with our families—is truly what we have to anticipate fills me with deepest joy and gratitude. Gelarik mentioned a 'Father' a number of times. A 'Father of our spirits.' To extend such a gift to His children seems the purest expression of a father's love, because why wouldn't He want all of His children to come back to him? I suddenly feel to believe with all my heart that such a Being exists and loves us immeasurably."

Arya nodded fervently. "Yes, as do I. And that He saw fit to extend His mercy in returning Brom's spirit to his body so we could enjoy him in this life also fills me with deepest gratitude. I'm going to thank Him, Eragon." She closed her tear-filled eyes and whispered, "Father, I know you can hear me. Thank you. Thank you, Father in heaven, for giving us our son back. For teaching us the power of faith and producing such a miracle in our lives. We'll always be grateful and will do our best to love him and raise him well." As she ended, fresh tears flowed out of her eyes, as well as Eragon's, for they both experienced a feeling of surpassing love and comfort, which washed over and around them, settling into their hearts as a warm reassurance. They stared at each other with wide eyes.

Eragon breathed, "Thank you for doing that. It wouldn't have felt right not to somehow give thanks for this miracle of our son. He'll be a constant reminder to us of having faith. His birth was our final insurmountable obstacle. We overcame it triumphantly because of the faith of a friend. How can we ever thank Willow enough?"

"I don't know if there's a way," Arya said. "But she doesn't consider us in her debt. It's not in her nature. She's the truest, most selfless friend there is. I'm so grateful she views me as her sister. I'll always look for a way serve her and somehow repay our debt, though she doesn't expect it."

Eragon nodded. "There's something I've been wondering, Arya," he said. "And since we were reliving the birth a moment ago, now seems the best time to ask. Did you feel any pain?"

"None whatsoever, Eragon, until that last push when I thought I felt the placenta tearing away from my womb. It was over so soon after that. At least the physical pain. My womb opened so gently under the effects of the song and the pushing was nothing. It was hard, but not painful. Maybe because Brom was so tiny, but also because I've always learned not to perceive that experience as painful. It was beautiful and exciting right up until his heart stopped beating. Then I felt only fear and anxiety. But even now I can remember it without feeling the same gripping, heart-wrenching terror."

Arya took a deep, steadying breath. "I think you were right that talking about it would help us process it. I might have been inclined to ignore it, so I wouldn't have to relive it, but burying emotions that negative and powerful could only have meant bad things. I'm sure they would have constantly haunted my waking dreams. I've never felt such pain and such a depth of loss. Not when Fäolin died, not when my mother died, not when I thought we might not get to be together after just being reunited. But when my firstborn son was lying dead in my hands, I thought I had died too." She laid one hand over Eragon's where it was still covering Brom. "Thank you for helping me work out some of my worst emotions, darling. Maybe I'll be able to sleep in peace now."

"Are you tired?" Eragon asked, also feeling purified from the grief and anger of the previous day. "I'm sorry to keep you up so late."

"I haven't felt even slightly tired until now, Eragon," Arya reassured him. "But my breasts are feeling more and more painful. Brom seems so peaceful on your chest. He must have learned that from me since I'm so often there, feeling just the same way after experiencing your love."

"Here, take him back now," Eragon offered. "I'm sure he'll latch right on with the temptation of your breast right in front of him, just as he always has. He must have inherited _that_ tendency from me." He grinned as Arya quietly laughed.

Then she said, "You may have to do it again soon if he seems content to sleep and not nurse after all the work he has done to get this milk flowing." When Eragon moved his hand away from Brom's back, Arya carefully gathered him up. Brom murmured and his hands startled out away from him. "Shh, shh, my darling," Arya soothed. "All is well."

She turned Brom, cradling him as she brought him to her breast and tickling his mouth with it. Just as Eragon predicted, Brom opened as wide as if he were yawning, but Arya didn't give him the chance to close his mouth before placing her nipple inside of it. The sudden presence of his food source triggered the sucking reflex, and Brom eagerly began doing just that. Arya smiled proudly, wincing a little.

"Does it hurt, my love?" Eragon wondered.

"Do you want to try so you can decide for yourself?" Arya invited teasingly, acting like she would remove Brom and hand him back to Eragon.

Eragon laughed. "I'm not sure my nipple is soft enough. He might like to grab my chest hair, but I doubt he would like a mouthful of it."

"That's true," Arya agreed in amusement. "Your muscles are so hard that he would only be able to get your skin, and that would most likely hurt a fair amount. To answer your question, it only hurts a little right now because of how tender they are. It will pass if he actually drinks some, as well as in a few days after my supply has a chance to regulate. What you usually do would most likely not be enjoyable in my current state."

Eragon pretended he was more disappointed than he was. "Well, I remain your willing servant to be called upon in the slightest need, should it ever arise. And if it doesn't, I'll only resent Brom the pleasure a little. I've been able to enjoy it all to myself for so many months. Now it's his turn."

He grinned as Arya looked at him worriedly, apparently thinking he might actually be serious. "I'm only teasing, Arya. I don't and will never resent Brom's need right now. And I remember your lessons well. I wouldn't want to make the problem worse by removing extra milk and sending your body the message that it needs to continue producing such large quantities. While your husband might enjoy a mouthful of warm breast milk while he pleasures you during our passionate exchanges, he certainly doesn't need it like our son and would never take it if it meant causing you greater discomfort."

"You were a most attentive student, weren't you?" Arya said, both impressed and relieved. "I'm sure the time will soon come when I'll _want_ you to resume your usual attentions with as much vigor as ever. And if you happen to enjoy the milk, then I'm glad my body will continue making it."

Eragon laughed, squeezing her against him, and Arya winced again as it pushed her free breast—the one closest to him—firmly against his strong muscles. "I'm sorry," Eragon apologized, loosening his hold. "How can we arrange ourselves so you'll be able to sleep most comfortably?"

Arya gazed at him with a mix of gratitude and love in her eyes. "Eragon, you're so amazing. I love you so much. You're the kindest husband, the sweetest father. I'm so blessed to have you. And I realize now more than ever how true that really is. I'm so thankful someone saw fit to throw us together often enough for me to eventually overcome my blindness and realize what a unique, incredible person you are. I'm so grateful for you, Eragon. Thank you for loving me and for showing me through every word and deed how deeply you treasure me."

"You're welcome, Arya. You deserve someone who cherishes you. I'm glad you feel I do. I consider it my most important duty."

"Well, before I get emotional again," Arya said, blinking quickly, "I'll answer your question. I think if I can lie on my other side—the same one to which Brom is now attached—with you laying behind me and using your arm over our bodies to hold him in place, I'll be perfectly comfortable, so long as you avoid resting the heavy weight of your arm on my breast."

"I like the sound of that," Eragon said. "It seems fitting since it was the very way we first slept together after being reunited. Another way we have come full circle." They began to assume the position and as he helped her according to her instructions, he asked, "Do you remember when we found each other in Eastcroft and slept in that small room together?" Arya nodded. "It was so painful for me to listen to your steady breathing. I couldn't approach you since you had spurned my advances. I knew I wanted you, I just didn't know what to do. That you had so insistently rejected me confused my affection with hurt and frustration. Funny how these little memories come back to me, isn't it?"

Her laugh was soft and weary. "Yes, darling. You were so patient as you waited for me to come around. If I hadn't rejected you, do you think you would have approached me that night, hopeful something would come of it?"

"Hmm, that's interesting to consider," Eragon said thoughtfully. They had assumed their comfortable position, snuggling with her back to his chest and their arms curled under the pillows. Eragon draped his top arm over her side to prop Brom up so he could continue nursing at her breast. He could tell Arya was getting relaxed, which he knew was an effect of the nursing. "Perhaps. I wanted you so much, Arya, and that was before I had learned the importance of self-control. I might have, and I'm sure I would have been shocked if you had accepted me. I would have been self-conscious for many reasons, partly because of how dirty and smelly I was from that endless running. I also would have wondered if you really wanted it and what your motives were. I would have questioned a lot of things.

"I guess I'm glad then that your feelings were still what they were. How different things might have been if we had made love before we were married, before you were sure my love was loyal and undying. I'm glad things ended up as they did and that I had to leave. I'm grateful for how everything turned out, though it was hard in the moment. We often see how our trials strengthen us once we have successfully emerged from them. I wouldn't have it any other way. You happy as my wife, rather than bitter I had sought to use you for my own selfish gratification. You happy as mother of our son, rather than childless and alone. I'm sorry to continue prattling on, Arya. Sleep now, my love. I will keep you safe and warm." He finished by whispering the promise he had made to her the first time he had been privileged to hold her like this and on a number of other occasions. As on that first night, he had also spread her soft hair all over his bare torso, and he fell asleep relishing its warmth, so grateful to have this beautiful woman as his wife and for their precious son.

 _The Cycle Continues . . ._

In Part Four:

 **Eternal**

* * *

 **A/N:** Congratulations on making it this far! I'll give you a bit of a warning as we move into Part Four. Eragon and Arya's conflict is resolved. If Willow and Varhog hadn't demanded to have their story told, this would have been the end of my book. And it would have been a lot shorter because none of the stuff that happened with Willow and Varhog would even exist. Of course, Eragon and Arya don't completely disappear in Part Four, they simply don't have as central a role from here on out.

With their happy ending in place, I couldn't do much more for Eragon and Arya without it becoming painfully repetitive, which I know it already is to some readers. But I hope you'll at least come to understand why I felt it was so important to develop Willow and Varhog's relationship as I did as we move into and finish Part Four.

Several readers have expressed concern over Eragon and Arya's spiritual development, which is clearly influenced by my own personal beliefs. As an elf and one trained by the elves, they were never characters with faith in higher powers in the original series. I know what I did with them here could be viewed as another OOC stunt, but the evolution was realistic in my mind based on the life-changing experiences they have in these final chapters. Though some found it distracting, I won't be changing that aspect of my story since I felt that I was supposed to include it, for whatever reason. For more of my thoughts on that subject, I invite you to check out my profile, if you haven't already. Clicking on my username would also be the easiest way to find Part Four.

For those reading on the "Eragon/Arya track," you have few chapters indeed in Part Four. Here they are:

1\. Time in the Meadow  
4\. Yazuac (mainly at the beginning)  
10\. Riders in Alagaёsia (along with many of my OCs)  
13\. Overcoming Awkwardness (only at the end)  
14\. New Mysteries Arise  
19\. Dragon Fights  
21\. Family Time on the Isle  
Epilogue

Thank you for reading! It means the world to me!

Much love,

~Autumn :)

P.S. You'll find Part Four as _The Cycle Continues Part Four: Eternal_. And if you're heading right now to find it and keep reading, might I request that you first leave a quick review? I'd love to hear any thoughts you have.


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